


Shattered

by gleefulmusings



Category: Glee, One Life to Live
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Child Abuse, Crossover, Drama, F/F, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Rape, Mild Language, Repressed Memories, Season/Series 02, mentions of sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-07 09:13:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/429355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt wakes up in his bedroom with no memory of his new family, his boyfriend, or the last three years. To get the help he needs, he must leave Lima and stay near family who understand exactly what he's going through - because they've survived it themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shards

Kurt's eyes shot open and blinked blearily in the darkness, trying to make sense of his surroundings and how much time had passed. He _always_ kept track of the time.

There was no ambient light, however, so it was impossible for him to discern where he was. The absence of both light and sound was thoroughly discombobulating and, though he was beginning to understand what must have happened, he had no idea how to go about fixing it.

His supine condition and the pillow beneath his head suggested he was in a bed, but it didn't feel as though it were his own; it was far too big. The sheets felt amazing, though, almost like silk. They were cool and soft but weren't puddling about him like he thought silk or satin might. They must have been expensive.

His sense of worry increased.

Where was he? How much time had passed?

Because he _knew_.

How could this have happened _again_?

He had to get out of here, once he determined where _here_ was.

He could feel the panic begin to set in, his heartbeat increasing exponentially as adrenaline coursed through his veins, the way it always did in this situation.

But what had triggered it? It had been years. It was supposed to have been over.

He needed to find his dad. His dad would make everything all right. He always had.

He scooted toward the edge of the bed, careful to make as little noise as possible. He didn't know where he was and, more importantly, who might be with him. He didn't want this to be like the last time.

He shivered, teeth chattering as his body gave itself over to a spastic shudder. He forced himself to remain calm. It wouldn't do him any good to start freaking out until he had learned exactly what had happened, what had triggered the episode. Not that he had ever really figured _that_ out or why it had even started in the first place.

But it had been _years_.

His was tongue suddenly too large for his mouth and he felt as though he were breathing through wet cotton.

Hadn't it?

He swallowed heavily.

What if the opposite was true? What if it had been more years than he realized?

What was the date?

He yelped and jumped up from the bed, no longer feeling the need to be stealthy. He had to get out of there.

He bumped into the nightstand and something flashed. Frowning, he leaned over and peered at it. Some kind of electric clock, but none like he had ever seen before. Curious, he reached out and poked its screen, which now displayed a small number of colorful boxes. He had no idea what it was and decided it best to leave it alone.

He looked around for some clue as to where he was as well as something he could use to arm himself. The light from the device illuminated a small swath of the room and Kurt felt his vision begin to fade from the corners of his eyes.

Basement. He was in the basement. _His_ basement.

Why?

Was he being punished? He _hated_ the basement.

It was dark and creepy and smelled like a toilet.

But it didn't _look_ like his basement. Everything was white - _so very white_ \- though the whiteness was transformed to an almost neon blue color by that weird light.

It didn't _smell_ like his basement either. It smelled like oranges and some spicy scent he couldn't place, but was reminiscent of something his mother had used in her cooking.

His eyes darted across the room and then widened when they noticed another bed was across from the one in which he had awoken.

There was someone _in_ that bed. The person looked large, too, if the size of the covered shape was any indication.

He startled when the light dissipated and then vanished altogether.

Great. Now what was he supposed to do?

He stood there for a moment in silence, contemplating his next move.

Okay, well, he knew the basement. It might have looked different but he was familiar with the layout. The stairs should be just behind him. All he had to do was get to them, preferably without waking up the hulk in the other bed.

"Kurt?" a sleepy voice mumbled.

Kurt froze and then slapped a hand over his mouth to avoid screaming.

 _Don't make a noise_ , he told himself. _Don't even breathe_.

"Did you have another nightmare?" the voice whispered, filled with concern.

Kurt frowned, his eyes narrowing as he slowly dropped his hand. Who the heck was talking and how did they knew each other? Why was he in a room with another boy?

Deciding discretion was not the better part of valor and that perhaps it was best to abandon his evacuation toward the stairs, he darted forward and reached out blindly. The doors to the laundry pantry should be just in front of him.

He wanted to weep with relief when his hand closed over a knob, though not the knob that should have been there. He opened the door, stepped into the pantry, and quietly shut it behind him, silently cursing that there was no lock.

He groped his way through the space, which was much larger than he remembered. His hands scrambled for purchase, for something he might use to defend himself, but all he found were clothes. A lot of clothes.

Who in the world needed so many clothes? Had they opened a dry cleaning service?

He tripped over a shoe and fell to the floor, the wind knocked out of him.

"Kurt! Are you all right?" called a panicked voice. "Why are you hiding in the closet? Isn't that ... what's the word? Moronic? Oxymoronic?" A pause. "Ironic!"

Kurt felt a swell of irrational pride as well as the need to roll his eyes. He also felt as though something were trying to smother him. He recognized that feeling all too well.

"Not this time," he muttered, closing his eyes and focusing with all of his attention, drawing on as many inner reserves as he could muster, which weren't much.

God, he was so _weak_.

"Get back," he hissed.

As the palms of his hands pressed into the floor, his fingers brushed against something solid and cylindrical. He seized it and recognized the object as a baseball bat. Where had it come from? He shook his head, not really caring. At least he could protect himself now.

The doors were suddenly thrown open and a light was turned on, causing Kurt to blink rapidly. He stared up at the form now towering over him and his hands tightened around the bat.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" the voice asked.

Kurt cocked his head, not yet able to make out the features of the face looking down upon him. All he knew was that he was trapped and he wanted out.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

The figure shook his head as though to clear it. "Who am I?" he repeated, sounding both amused and bewildered. "Kurt, what's going on? What's wrong with you?"

Kurt laughed in a vaguely hysterical manner. "What's wrong with me? Who _are_ you? Why am I in the basement? Why are you here with me?"

"But ... this is our bedroom," the voice said slowly, as though addressing a toddler.

That was just infuriating. He was not about to be talked down to by some mysterious, hulking shadow.

This was _over_.

Gripping the bat as tightly as possible around the hilt, he shot the blunt end of the bat out toward the figure and landed a direct blow to the stomach. At the resultant gasp and wail, he scooted forward, drove his shoulder into the chest of the man who was now doubled over and bleating, and pushed past him out into the basement proper and headed for the stairs.

Blood rushed in his ears and his mouth was dry and cottony.

Escape. He had to get out of here. He had to find his father.

"Mom!" the other boy bellowed. "Burt! Help! Something's wrong with Kurt!"

Kurt paused only briefly at the sound of his father's name. Was his father in the house? Did his father know this other boy? Had he put them in the basement as some kind of punishment?

But why were there beds? It couldn't be his bedroom, could it? If so, why was he sharing it and with whom?

He shook his head and raced up the stairs as he heard thundering footsteps from the second floor.

He exited into the hall, shutting the door behind him and locking it. At least the giant would be trapped in the basement for the time being until Kurt could suss out the situation.

He quickly crossed the hall and opened the foyer closet, flipping on the light and heaving a sigh of relief when he spied the shotgun leaning up against the wall. He threw down the baseball bat and grabbed the gun, checking to make sure that it was loaded. Thankfully, it was.

He turned on his heel and stepped out of the closet, leading with the shotgun. He hurriedly headed to the main panel by the front door and flipped the switches, the rooms on either side now flooded with light. He startled when the giant began pounding on the basement door.

"Burt! Mom! Let me out!"

"Shut up," Kurt whispered, his eyes wide and darting around the house as though seeing it for the first time. " _Shut up!_ "

Where had that chair come from? It was gross.

He didn't recognize that painting on the wall or the carpet in the living room. Was this even his house?

The light above the landing turned on and two distinct sets of footsteps began lumbering down the stairs.

"Finn!" Burt bellowed. "What the hell is all this racket?"

"Dad," Kurt mumbled, sagging with relief and lowering the gun slightly.

"Finn, baby?" called a woman's voice.

Wait.

 _Woman's_ voice?

_What?_

Kurt shook his head and raised the gun once more.

It must have been the giant's mother, for whom he'd been calling. What was some strange woman doing in his house?

Burt and Carole all but toppled over each other as they raced around the corner, only to stop abruptly when they were met with Kurt pointing a shotgun at them.

"Kurt!" Burt howled. "What in the world are you doing with my gun?"

"Dad?" Kurt asked, his voice high, thin, and scared.

"Of course it's me!" Burt yelled, face red. "Who the hell were you expecting?" he demanded, looking around suspiciously for the boyfriend.

"Kurt, honey, what is going on?" asked a terrified and exasperated Carole. "Where is Finn?"

Kurt immediately swung the shotgun toward her, aiming at her chest. "Who are you?"

Carole stared and opened her mouth to answer just as Burt's eyes widened.

"No," he whispered.

"Burt?" Carole asked, now verging on full-fledged panic because - while she couldn't explain it to anyone, least of all herself - it was apparent that Kurt didn't recognize her, had no idea who she was. How in the world was that possible?

Burt didn't respond, pushing her behind him and covering her with his own body, which made Kurt frown. He held up his hands in surrender. "Kurt, son, put down the gun."

Kurt shook his head. "I don't think so. Something's wrong. I woke up and was in the basement. Why was I there? Did you put me there? Was I bad?"

"It's your bedroom," said a confused Carole.

"It is not!" Kurt roared, furious some strange woman had interrupted him, had come between him and his father.

"Carole, please," Burt begged, "you don't understand what's happening."

"Obviously!" she screeched. "My stepson is pointing a gun at me!"

"W-What?" Kurt gasped. "Stepson?" He turned wide, betrayed eyes toward his father.

"Kurt," Burt said evenly, "did it happen again?"

Kurt blinked and at last nodded. Was this really his father? He looked older, heavier, and not at all well.

" _What_ happened?" Carole barked.

"Not now, Carole!" Burt hissed.

Her face flooded with color but she fell silent.

"Is it true?" Kurt quietly asked his father.

"Is what true, son?" Burt stalled, desperately trying to think of a way out of this. Because if what was happened was what he feared, there were a lot of explanations he was unprepared to offer, though Kurt would demand and settle for nothing less than full disclosure.

Kurt soured, wise to his father's game. " _Is_ she your wife?"

"What!" Carole yelped. "Of course I am! You were at the wedding!"

Kurt shook his head. "I wasn't."

"Oh, god," Burt whispered, falling to his knees as the truth of the situation washed over him.

Carole immediately bent over and pulled him to his feet once more. "Honey, please! What's going on? This can't be good for your heart."

"What's wrong with his heart?" Kurt asked, voice tremulous, now terrified for an altogether different reason.

Carole's head turned toward him, her eyes stormy and furious. "You know very well ..."

"He doesn't," Burt murmured. "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry. How did I not notice?"

Tears began falling from Kurt's eyes. That was a question to which he also wanted an answer. "Get in the kitchen."

Burt nodded and began dragging Carole with him.

"Burt!" she protested.

"Carole, please. I need you to listen me and do what I say. Just go with what he wants. I promise I'll explain, but he's in a dangerous place right now and he really has no idea what's going on or who you are."

Carole stared at him for a long moment and realized he was telling her nothing but the truth, which only served to increase her terror. "Finn."

Burt swallowed and nodded, turning to look at his son once more. "Buddy, you didn't hurt Finn, did you?"

Kurt's brow furrowed. "Who's Finn?"

"Carole's son," Burt said. "He shares the basement with you."

"Oh, the giant." Kurt shook his head. "I didn't hurt him."

"Yes, you did!" Finn bellowed, pounding on the door. "Let me out!"

Burt cocked his head. "Can we let him out, baby?"

Kurt bit his lip. "He won't hurt me, will he?"

"Of course not, Kurt," Carole said softly. She had no idea what was going on, but she wanted Kurt to remain as calm as possible.

"I would never hurt Kurt!" an outraged Finn howled. "He's my little brother!"

"Brother?" Kurt helplessly repeated. He shook his head in bewilderment. "Okay," he said to Carole, "you can let him out, but you all need to go into the kitchen." He looked at his father. "The phone's still there, right?"

Burt nodded, inordinately sad that his son even had to ask that question. Fucking Christ.

Kurt nodded in kind. "I have to make a call."

 

* * *

 

"I don't understand," Finn whined, huddled in his chair, shoulders slumped and watching Kurt from the corner of his eye. "He's acting like he doesn't even know who I am."

Burt rubbed a hand over his face. "Because he doesn't, Finn, or at least he doesn't know why you're here."

Finn choked back a sob. How could Kurt not know him? They were brothers! All his life, Finn had wanted a brother, and now he had one. He had the best brother ever! Why didn't Kurt remember that?

"How is that possible?" Carole asked, shaking her head, her outrage overcome by maternal concern. "Burt, what is going on?"

"I'm not sure," he said honestly, prevaricating until he knew enough about what Kurt was experiencing. "Hopefully, we're about to find out."

"Who's he calling?" Finn asked softly.

"Santana."

Finn pulled a face. "Why would he be calling _her_? They don't like each other. They don't even _know_ each other!"

Burt shook his head. "You don't know how wrong you are."

 

* * *

 

Santana groaned and flopped over onto her back. Who the fuck was calling at this time of night?

Her hand reached for her phone on the bedside table and she grabbed her cell.

"Who the fuck is this?" she barked into the receiver, only to frown when the sound of ringing continued unabated.

"Aw, shit," she mumbled, tossing her cell to the side and hauling her ass out of bed. She crossed the room to her dresser, on top of which sat her old princess phone. Why the hell she hadn't had the number disconnected long ago was a mystery to her.

It wasn't like she ever used it, not for years. Still, it was useful if her battery died or the power went out. Besides, she was still kind of proud and smug that she'd been the first amongst her friends not only to have a phone in her room, but her own private number.

It had all been so very _Babysitters Club_ at the time.

She couldn't even remember the last time someone had called her on that number, though. Most of her friends didn't even have it, so the hell could it have been? Probably a solicitation or a wrong number. '

Ooh! Or maybe an obscene caller!

She smirked.

Time for some fun.

"Hello," she purred, cradling the headset between her ear and shoulder.

" _Tana?_ "

Her eyes widened as her mouth went slack.

 

* * *

 

Kurt was flooded with relief at the sound of his best friend's voice. _Finally_ he'd get some straight answers. Santana didn't know how to give anything else.

" _K-Kurt?_ " she asked hesitantly.

"Of course it's me!" he said, frowning. He looked warily at the people seated at the table. "Tana, it happened again," he hissed, his worry and fear reasserting themselves.

 

* * *

 

 

Santana closed her eyes to stop the tears that had gathered as soon as she had hear his voice, heard him speaking that old nickname.

Oh, god, no. Not again.

He shouldn't have to go through this _again_.

What the hell had happened?

"Where are you?" she asked.

 

* * *

 

 

"In my kitchen," he said. "Tana, I don't know what's going on. I woke up in the basement." He then began babbling at a frankly astonishing speed. "Why was I there? There was some boy in the room with me. His name is Finn, he's twelve feet tall, and he's supposedly my stepbrother! What the hell?"

He blinked and looked over at the boy in question. "Wait. Are you Finn Hudson?"

Finn nodded uncertainly.

Kurt's eyes widened. "Tana!" he hissed into the phone. "Why is _Finn Hudson_ in my house?

" _Kurt, you need to calm down_ ," she said quietly.

"Calm down!" he shrieked. "There are strange people in my _home,_ Tana, and, apparently, I'm supposed to know them. The woman, Finn's mother, I guess, says she's my stepmother! I think I'd remember if I had one of those!"

There was a rustling and some metallic click.

"Stay where you are!" Kurt barked.

" _Kurt, what are you doing?_ " she asked.

"Pointing a gun at them!"

" _What!_ " she screamed.

"I don't know who they are!" he insisted. "Is this even my father? He looks old and...and _sick_! Why are they here? What do they want?"

" _Oh, god, Kurt_ ," she moaned, her tears now slipping down her face.

"Tana," Kurt said quietly, blinking rapidly and keeping the gun aimed at his alleged family. "What's the date?"

Carole's eyes widened.

Kurt shook his head at Santana's answer. "It can't be December. I can't have lost that much time. Besides, it's not nearly long enough to explain a stepmother, a stepbrother, and me living in the basement."

He glanced at his father, who was now openly weeping, and all of the blood drained from Kurt's face, his lips turning pasty.

"Tana," he whispered, his voice catching. "What year is it?"

 

* * *

 

Santana bit her lip, shaking her head in denial. It was the innocence of his tone, of the question itself, which had so undone her.

This was going to kill him, but he had to know. She couldn't lie to him. She never could, and knew he depended on her for that.

So she told him.

 

* * *

 

The shotgun clattered to the floor as a pallid and waxy Kurt collapsed against the wall and slowly slid down it, shaking his head.

"That can't be right," he mumbled. "It just _can't_ be."

He couldn't focus on Santana's babbling and let the phone slip from his hand.

Carole was now staring at her practically catatonic stepson as Finn sobbed and had to be restrained from going to Kurt and hugging him to within an inch of his life.

Burt got on his knees and crawled over to his son, ignoring the twinge in his chest. He settled himself in front of his boy and took Kurt's face in his hands, knowing for certain that it was indeed _Kurt_ staring back at him.

When had this happened? Better yet, _why_ had it happened? Kurt was supposed to be integrated. This wasn't supposed to have happened ever again.

Jesus Christ, how the fuck hadn't he noticed? For that, he would never be able to forgive himself.

"Kurt, baby," he whispered, "how old are you?" He winced at the terrified eyes now looking back into his own.

"Fourteen," Kurt murmured, as though in daze. "Daddy, I'm fourteen." He grabbed blindly at Burt's pajamas, grasping and releasing the material over and over again, trying and failing to hold on to something solid. "I'm _fourteen_ , Daddy!" he insisted, choking on his tears. "How did I lose _three years?_ "

Santana's mechanized wail filled the entire room.

"We're going to fix this, baby," Burt vowed. "I promise you that."

Kurt shook his head, his face a mask of misery. "Three years," he repeated, voice filled with shock. "I don't... _how_...why? It's supposed to be August! I just started at McKinley."

Finn's face was fixed in horror. What the hell was happening to his brother?

Santana was now screaming in Spanish, demanding someone attend to her.

Burt sighed and picked up the phone, advising the girl to go back to sleep and that he'd call her tomorrow.

" _You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going back to sleep, Uncle Burt!_ " she raged. " _I'm on my way over there, right the fuck now!_ "

Kurt nodded frantically. "Let her come," he begged. "Please let her come."

He didn't mention that he needed her because she was the only one he trusted at the moment. He certainly couldn't trust himself. He didn't trust Finn Hudson or his mother. And he couldn't trust his father, not if his he hadn't been able to tell that an alter had been living his son's life for the past three years.

Burt nodded tiredly, but before he could accede to Santana's demands the line had already gone dead.

 

* * *

 

Seven minutes later, Santana barreled through the front door, causing Finn to scream.

"How did you get in?" he demanded.

She smirked and held up something shiny in her hand. "I've got a key, dumbass."

Finn frowned at her, myriad questions burgeoning on his lips but, before he could ask them, another woman then appeared.

"Dr. Lyddie!" Kurt screamed, running toward her in a blind panic.

"Who?" a subdued Carole asked Burt.

"Santana's mother," he replied, "and Kurt's psychiatrist."

She nodded dumbly.

"It's okay, Kurt," Lydia said soothingly, dropping her medical bag and wrapping her arms around him. "We're going to figure all of this out, all right?"

"'kay," he mumbled. He released her, turned and pulled at Santana, drawing her flush against him, before quickly pulling away and staring down at her chest. "Where did _those_ come from?"

She blushed. "We'll talk about that later," she said awkwardly.

He frowned, not about to be dissuaded, and poked at one with a finger. "They're fake!"

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"Why the heck do you have fake boobs?" he demanded. "You don't need them!"

"That's what I tried to tell her," Lydia said, sighing.

"What is going _on?_ " Finn yelled.

Kurt cowered and leaned against Santana, who shot Finn such a vicious glare he wilted and seemed to fold in on himself. Great, now he felt like shit for scaring his brother.

Lydia cleared her throat. "Santana, take Kurt into the living room and make him lie down. I'll be there in a few moments. I need to talk to his parents."

"She's not my mother!" an outraged Kurt howled, pointing at Carole, whose tears began anew.

"Come on, Kurt," Santana said softly. "Let's go lie down."

"You'll stay with me?" he whispered, searching her eyes with his own.

"Always," she promised, guilt swimming throughout her body. "I'm never leaving you again."

 

* * *

 

"Kurt suffers from a condition known as Dissociative Identity Disorder, or DID," Lydia explained for Carole and Finn's benefit after gulping down a large slug of the coffee Burt had hastily provided. She hesitated, knowing the next part would either be met with incredulity or outright disbelief. "It was previously known as Multiple Personality Disorder."

Carole's eyes widened and her mouth fell open before she turned to look at Burt, whose head was resting in his hands. Surely this woman wasn't serious! Kurt couldn't ... but it explained so much of what had happened tonight. Still, could such a thing even be possible outside of soap operas?

Finn immediately began denying the woman's words, utterly believing and loudly insisting that Kurt did not have that, that the whole thing was crazy, and that they should take Kurt to the hospital, because he had obviously hit his head and was suffering from milk of magnesium.

Carole winced. "I think you mean amnesia, honey, and that's not what's going on here."

"Well, something is," Finn bit back. "Who _is_ that in there?" he asked, pointing toward the living room. "That's not Kurt," he said, shaking his head.

"That's where you're wrong, Finn," Burt whispered. "That's Kurt, all right. The boy who's been here the last three years, though, I don't know who the hell that was."

Lydia blinked. "It wasn't Dylan?"

Burt shook his head slowly. "I don't think so. I know Dylan and, whoever that was, it wasn't him."

"Who's Dylan?" Carole asked.

"Kurt's alter," Burt said dully. "His alternate personality," he clarified for Finn, who, regardless, was still confused.

"We always suspected there were probably more," Lydia said softly.

"He was supposed to be integrated," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Dylan was supposed to be a part of him by now, nothing more than a memory and some added personality traits."

"Obviously it didn't work," she said stiffly. "There were no guarantees that it would, Burt, and you knew that going in."

He sighed. "Here we go."

"Don't start that with me," she snapped, eyes flashing in warning. " _You_ were the one who insisted he be integrated. I told you he wasn't ready, that he was too young, that if there was one alter, there were bound to be more beneath the surface. It's not surprising that they would emerge during adolescence." She paused. "Burt, I'm sorry to have to ask this ..."

"Go ahead," he said, waving his arms. "You think I'm not asking myself the same thing?"

"How in the name of god did you not know for _three years_ _?_ "

Burt sighed and sadly shook his head. "I don't know," he said thickly. "I guess I didn't want to? I thought it was over."

"I'm afraid I don't really understand this," Carole carefully interjected. "What exactly is happening to Kurt?"

Lydia gathered a breath and slowly released it. "DID is an exceedingly rare condition. In fact, its very existence is heatedly debated in the psychiatric community. Very few clinicians want to acknowledge the possibility." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I have no choice. I know Kurt. I also know Dylan and I know he's _very_ real."

"You're saying that Kurt's, like, a split personality," Finn asked, frowning. "Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?"

Lydia winced. "That's not really an apt comparison, Finn, but, essentially, yes. Kurt has at least one other personality. His name is Dylan and he is ... very different from Kurt."

"Different _how?_ " Finn asked, eyes narrowed.

"Dylan is basically the Kurt version of Puck," a tired Santana said, lingering in the doorway.

"How is he, honey?" Burt asked.

She shrugged. "Asleep."

"That's good, right?" Carole asked.

Santana shrugged again. "That depends on who wakes up."

Burt bit his lip and stared down at the floor.

" _Puck?_ " asked an almost hysterical Finn.

"Dylan is the aggressive, pleasure-seeking part of Kurt," Lydia said. "He's assertive, foul-mouthed, combative, rebellious, and hypersexual."

Finn stared at the woman and then promptly burst out laughing. "No way," he said, chuckling. "That's not Kurt."

"That's the point, Hudson," Santana snapped. "Dylan is _not_ Kurt. They live in the same body, but they're nothing alike. Dylan is reckless and dangerous. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. He certainly doesn't give a shit about Kurt, or that Kurt is the one who has to face the consequences for the actions of his stupid alter."

"You're _sure_ it wasn't Dylan this time?" Lydia asked Burt, needing the clarification.

"It wasn't," Santana interrupted. "I know Dylan. I know his games and tricks. I know when he's pretending to be Kurt. Whoever's been out for the past three years isn't Dylan."

"Then who is it?" Burt asked, his voice haunted.

Santana arched a brow. "I'll go you one better. How many more are there?"

"Oh, Jesus," he groaned.

"But what caused it?" asked a distraught Carole. "Surely there must have been a reason for the split."

Santana, Lydia, and Burt exchanged a look.

"What is it?" Finn demanded. "What do you know that we don't?"

"That could fill entire libraries," Santana quipped, before falling silent at her mother's glare.

Lydia then looked at Burt, who nodded wearily. She turned toward Carole. "As I said, DID is a contested diagnosis with no clear treatment modality, though integration of the personalities is the ultimate goal. Integration is the process of merging all of the personalities into one functional being."

Carole nodded.

"Usually, integration is attempted via extensive therapy, hypnosis, and medication, all of which was used with Kurt." She averted his eyes. "We believed we had been successful. Obviously we were wrong."

"You didn't answer the question," Finn noted. "Why did he split in the first place?"

Lydia sighed, wringing her hands. "There is no one etiology which explains the initial split, only theories."

"So what's your theory?" asked a stern Carole.

"I don't need to hear this," Santana announced. "I'm going back to sit with him."

"Thank you, sweetheart," Burt said.

"Whatever." She stomped out of the room.

Lydia sent a worried look after her daughter. Eventually, she turned back to Finn and Carole. "This will not be easy to hear."

"It can't be any worse than what I'm imagining," Carole said. "Whether he remembers it or not, whether he agrees with it or not, Kurt is my son. I want to know what caused this and how we go about fixing it for him."

She glared at Burt, who withered, furious that she hadn't been told about Kurt's condition prior to their marriage. She wouldn't have left Burt, of course, or Kurt for that matter, but she would've liked the opportunity to prepare herself for this or at least try to understand what Kurt had been through.

Lydia licked her lips. "Initially I believed that Dylan emerged as a response to Suzanne's death," she said, referring to Kurt's mother. "They were extremely close, verging on codependent, and as Kurt spent months watching her slowly die, he walked around as if in a fog. He'd even gone mute for several months, either unwilling or unable to speak. That's when I first began treating him for what I thought was grief counseling but, after Suzanne died, it was as though Kurt became another person entirely." She paused. "In fact, he did."

"But now you _don't_ think it was because of his mom?" Finn slowly asked.

Lydia sighed and closed her eyes. "In the preponderance of DID cases, whether real or imagined, the first dissociation is always due to some external, life-changing event. Most often, the mind is fragmented into pieces because of psychological trauma caused by horrific child abuse."

She opened her eyes and stared past Carole at the wall behind her. "Typically, severe sexual abuse."

Carole's eyes widened in horror and a shaky hand covered her gaping mouth. "No! Oh, god, no!" She turned, pained, to face her husband. "Burt..."

"Wait," Finn said slowly, his voice shaky. "Are you saying," he swallowed heavily, "are you saying that someone ... touched Kurt?" He was trembling with rage and had to fight himself not to go into the living room and protect Kurt from the entire world. And if someone had done ... _that_... to Kurt, it was Finn's job as Kurt's brother to kill that person and he would. No one was allowed to hurt his little brother.

"We don't know," Burt rasped, tears once again coursing down his face. "We just don't know and neither does Kurt. If it happened, we can't conceive of when it did. Kurt's never been out of my sight long enough for it to happen. He was never on vacation without me, he was never in Scouts or any kind of sports program, he was never in anything that separated him from me for more than a few hours. So unless something happened at school, which doesn't really make sense ..." he trailed off, shaking his head.

"This thing is ... insidious. Kurt knows _about_ Dylan but he doesn't _know_ Dylan. He can't control Dylan, or when Dylan comes out or retreats. Dylan can talk to Kurt but Kurt can't talk to him and, once Kurt is back out, he doesn't remember anything Dylan has said or done. The _only_ thing Kurt knows is when he wakes up and has lost time. He doesn't remember where he's been or what Dylan's done while in control."

Carole shook her head in disbelief. Her poor baby!

"Kurt is the core identity," Lydia said, "known as the waking self. He's the person from whom Dylan and this other personality have sprung, but he doesn't know why they exist. Strictly speaking, alters are born in order to protect the waking self from the very knowledge that caused them to split in the first place. This knowledge has been deemed by the host personality as too dangerous for them to know, so they hide it from themselves, creating other people to deal with the pain."

"But Dylan doesn't protect Kurt," Burt seethed, fists clenching. "The little fucker goes out of his way to make Kurt as miserable as possible."

"Why?" asked a worried Finn. It didn't make sense. Why would Kurt create someone to hurt him?

"Because Dylan wants to be out all the time," Lydia said. "He doesn't think Kurt is strong enough, or worthy enough, to be the main personality. As far as he's concerned, _Kurt_ is the alter, an interloper who should be suppressed as often and for as long as possible."

"What has he done to Kurt?" Finn asked fearfully. What was he supposed about this? If this Dylan thing lived inside Kurt, it's not like he could kick Dylan's ass because then he'd be kicking _Kurt's_ ass, which he would never do.

Burt shook his head. "I don't want to talk about that."

Carole meant to interject but Lydia held up a hand.

"I agree with Burt," she said. "Even Kurt is not aware of all of the things Dylan has done, and that's for his own sanity. He simply could not deal with Dylan's actions and we've found that the harder Kurt fights him, the stronger Dylan becomes. Dylan is like a vampire who feeds off Kurt's energy."

"But you said it wasn't Dylan this time," Finn charged. "So who was it, and why was he made or whatever?"

"We don't have those answers, Finn," Lydia said patiently. "Obviously something happened to Kurt when he started McKinley which he simply couldn't handle, so either a new personality was born to deal with the trauma, or one that had previously existed, unknown to us, took control and locked Kurt away."

Finn nodded slowly. "So something must have also happened to make him go away and for Kurt to come back, right?"

She nodded. "That's a logical supposition."

Finn felt vaguely guilty that he was proud of himself for being able to follow along, even if the whole thing didn't make one lick of sense. "But where does Santana fit into this?"

Burt rubbed his tired eyes. "I keep forgetting that you weren't in elementary or middle school with Kurt, kiddo. Santana was Kurt's best friend from kindergarten until about eighth grade."

Finn's eyes bulged.

Burt nodded. "She was really the first person to realize that Kurt became someone else when he was upset or hurt. It wasn't long after Suzanne had died, and, well," he said gruffly, "I wasn't paying him the attention he needed or deserved, lost in my own problems. He was never out of my sight, but he was out of mind for a while."

He sighed. "Santana and Kurt had always been very close, so she knew almost immediately that something was wrong but she couldn't figure out what it _was_ exactly, not until she overheard Dylan talking to Kurt, pushing Kurt down and refusing to allow him out."

"What did he do to her?" Carole breathed.

Lydia flinched.

"They were over at her house when it happened," Burt whispered. "Dylan pushed Santana down a flight of stairs. He then locked the basement door and left her, probably for dead. Thank god Lydia came home and found her."

"Holy shit," Finn blurted, shaking his head. "There's no way Kurt would ever _do_ something like that!"

Burt winced. "Kiddo, you need to realize that you didn't meet Kurt until tonight. I don't know the name of the guy who's been living here, but it wasn't Kurt."

Finn shook his head more frantically, refusing to believe that. He knew his brother. Kurt just had some kind of sickness. They would get him help and everything would be okay.

"But you're also right," Burt said. "Kurt would never do something like that, least of all to Santana, and she knew that too. She told Lydia about Dylan and then we all began to watch him carefully, trying to figure out what was going on. When he was finally diagnosed, Santana was the only one who really dealt with it. She was able to separate Kurt and Dylan into two distinct people from the outset, and treat them as such, something I couldn't do."

"What do you mean?" Carole asked.

"Even after I became aware of Dylan's existence, I still saw him as an extension of Kurt," Burt explained, regret plain on his face. "I considered him my son, just another part of him." He shook his head. "Santana never made that mistake. Children are good judges of character and Santana had Dylan pegged from the get-go."

"You make him sound like he's evil or something," Finn said.

"Dylan is a sociopath," Lydia said flatly. "He doesn't care for anyone but himself. He has no interests other than his own pleasure. He hates Kurt. He hates Kurt's friends and family because he hates that they love Kurt. That doesn't mean Dylan wants their love for himself, only that he feels Kurt isn't deserving of love from anyone. It's not a competition. As far as he's concerned, Burt is not his father nor is Suzanne his mother. In fact, Dylan argues that he has no parents."

"But this other, er, personality is nothing like that," Carole said.

Burt nodded. "I agree. I don't know who he is, but he's very close to Kurt's own character."

"We don't know is how much of that is a contrivance," Lydia said. "Once we knew Dylan existed, it was obvious when he took control; he's not a good actor and the differences between he and Kurt are blatant. This other alter is either another version of Kurt or is playing a part to detract attention from himself."

Burt snorted. "I don't know which idea terrifies me more."

 

* * *

 

Santana sat at the end of the couch, Kurt's head nestled in her lap as she carded her fingers through his hair.

"I know you're in there, Dylan, and I know you can hear me," she hissed. "So listen up, you little shit: if you're back, you're going to be dealing with me, and rest assured that I'm not the girl you pushed down those stairs." She raised a brow. "You think you're hot shit, all attitude and badassery?" She snorted and shook her head. "Bitch, please. You have no idea what I'll do to you if you hurt Kurt again."

She frowned and stared down at Kurt's face. "As for the other one, I don't know who you are, but if you've been around this long then you're the one who took Kurt away from me, and I promise you'll pay for that."

She leaned over and kissed Kurt's forehead. "Hang on, baby. I'm here now. Anything that tries to get to you is going to have to go through me first."

 

* * *

 

Dylan rattled the knob of the door to the room in which the Other had locked him away.

So close now. After three years, he was _so close_ to getting out.

He heard Santana's last words echo throughout and he threw his head back and cackled.

"That's exactly what I'm counting on, you stupid bitch."


	2. Splinters

As Kurt slept nestled against Santana, both of whom were being watched over by Finn, the adults spent what little remained of the night wide awake, making plans.

Carole felt particularly useless. Not only had she yet to begin truly understanding what Kurt was experiencing, she had been so unprepared for this series of revelations that she had little to offer, except as a sounding board. There was also the fact that Kurt had been so stunned - _and displeased_ \- to learn that she was his stepmother, she didn't feel right contributing ideas for his treatment.

Now that she thought about it, she wondered why Kurt - or the person she had _thought_ was Kurt - had accepted her so easily. Given that Kurt and Burt were as close as they were...

She blinked. Or was that merely another illusion which had been shattered tonight? _Were_ Burt and Kurt as close as she had believed them to be? How could that be possible when Burt had not even suspected that some other person had been masquerading as his son for the past three years?

The look of betrayal on Kurt's face had shredded her soul to pieces. She could only imagine what it must have been like for him, to wake up after three years believing only hours had passed and discovering that he'd effectively been replaced by some foreign entity, but that life had gone on as usual. His father hadn't realized the difference, nor had his best friend, and his mother's house had been invaded by another woman and her son.

It was simply too much for her to wrap her head around. Theoretically she could at least understand the impetus, of enduring something so horrible, so violating, that your mind refused to admit it had occurred at all, literally peeling away pieces of your identity to cope in the aftermath. The process, however, was something she couldn't begin to contemplate.

It was all so extreme, so horrifyingly fascinating, and she was ashamed by the sense of intrigue she was experiencing. There was just so much she didn't understand and even more that she didn't know.

Lydia had apparently integrated Kurt four years ago at Burt's insistence, despite her own misgivings. This had been done on the assumption that it was the death of Suzanne which had been the genesis of the split. Carole supposed it made sense after a fashion; after all, her loss had been the singular fundamental event of young Kurt's life, at least as far as Burt and Lydia were aware.

Obviously that was not the case, as the integration had failed. Now they were once again stumbling around in the darkness with nothing more than conjecture and fear to guide them. What _had_ happened to Kurt that caused him to shatter into at least two other pieces?

No one had answers, not even Kurt himself.

In a very real way, Carole was grateful for that, that he couldn't remember, though she knew it was selfish and doing him no favors. However, if the split had been caused by what Lydia was now postulating, would Kurt truly be any better off remembering?

She couldn't imagine it. She didn't even want to. The very idea that Kurt had been so abused, had probably been raped, was anathema to her. All she could think about was how she would feel were Finn in Kurt's position and she was enraged.

Not that she wasn't furious on Kurt's behalf, of course - she was - but the fact of the matter remained that, until this night, she had never met Kurt. She had been loving and living with someone who technically didn't exist outside of the confines of Kurt's own mind.

It was agony. She was bereft that the boy she had come to consider as her own was, in fact, not her stepson at all.

Yet she still loved him, whomever he was, this nameless construct who had planned her wedding and took her shopping and helped her in the kitchen and around the house. What was she to do with those feelings? Was she supposed to deny them, pretend she felt nothing for the creature who had worn Kurt's skin and passed himself off as Burt's son?

She could now understand all too well why Burt's initial response to Dylan had been to love him as another aspect of Kurt himself.

But it wasn't Kurt. She had to keep telling herself that over and over again.

It didn't help.

If she couldn't understand all of this, how in the world was she going to explain it to Finn? Her son adored Kurt, or the person whom they'd believed Kurt to be. After a very rocky start and putting Kurt's former crush behind them, Finn and Kurt had fallen in love with the idea that they were brothers. In fact, they were far closer than most blood siblings Carole knew.

But, again, that person had not been Kurt, and it was apparent that Kurt had no interest in a new stepmother or stepbrother, no matter how much they loved him. Or the person they thought had been him.

She had a such a migraine.

She turned back into the conversation before her, which had taken a rather violent turn, given how Burt was now spitting his words like a threatened rattlesnake.

"That is never going to happen," he hissed.

Lydia sighed. "Burt, you're being unreasonable. I understand that you're confused and upset, that you don't want to be separated from him, but you have to think about what's best for Kurt. He needs treatment and not merely on an outpatient basis."

"You want to commit him," Carole said dully.

"There is no other viable alternative," Lydia insisted. She looked back at Burt. "You remember what happened the last time Dylan was out. This is even worse. Kurt is not going to be able to cope with all of this and certainly not here. He needs to be monitored and, frankly, he requires observation."

"He's not going to hurt himself," Burt grunted, rolling his neck, recognizing the possibility which existed and furious with her for forcing him to consider it.

"I didn't suggest that he would," Lydia said sharply. "Please stop putting words in my mouth."

She closed her eyes briefly and, when they reopened, they were bloodshot and resigned.

"The last time Dylan was out, it was almost six months. He was out for three of those before we were even sure of what was going on. You're aware that while he has total recall of everything Kurt knows, Kurt retains no knowledge of what Dylan has learned while in control of the body. It took Kurt months of constant study to catch up with his schoolwork."

"But he did!" Burt roared.

"That's not the point!" Lydia barked back. "It's been three years, Burt, and we're not just talking about schoolwork here, but let's think about that for a minute. You need to stop and consider that Kurt has no memory of his past three years of schooling. What is it that you propose he do? Just drop in at McKinley tomorrow and hope that he manages to remain himself for the day? Because I can almost guarantee that will not happen, and the more Kurt is stressed, the more likely it is that it will be Dylan who will emerge."

His mouth fell open but he made no sound.

She nodded once, swiftly. "As Finn pointed out, there has to be a _reason_ this other alter relinquished control of the body to Kurt. Whatever that reason is, it hasn't been resolved, otherwise the alter would have reasserted itself. It's apparent that he's much stronger than Kurt or Dylan if he could bury them so completely for so long a time."

She rolled her neck. "And there are other things to take into account. There are now two additional people, whom Kurt does not know, living in his house. One of them is sharing his _bedroom_. Eventually he's going to ask Santana why she didn't realize he wasn't himself and she'll be forced to tell him that they're no longer friends. His sense of abandonment will only increase."

She covered Burt's hand with her own. "He can't go on as if his entire life hasn't changed. He's older, Burt. He looks different. How do you think he'll react the first time he sees himself in a mirror? He looks completely different from when he was fourteen. He's grown half a foot and has become very lean. He can't walk into that school tomorrow as though it's just another day. He doesn't know who his teachers are. He won't be able to pass any exams given to him or explain his homework. He won't even be able to follow the lectures! And how do you suppose he'll get there? He doesn't know how to drive."

Burt hung his head.

"It's too soon to start thinking about the big picture," she said more sedately. "We can't even consider integration yet because there's far too much we don't know. What would you have him do? Sit here, day after day, in a house which he no longer recognizes with people whom he doesn't know? What's waiting for him at school? Failure, and friends who won't understand what's happening to him. Besides, _are_ they his friends? He won't know their names. He won't even recognize them, with the exception of Santana and Matthew, and Matt is gone."

"Matt?" Carole asked. "Matt Rutherford? I never knew they even knew each other, let alone were close."

"Not now," Burt said, sighing and running a hand down his face, "but they were. They were as close as Santana and Kurt were." He shook his head. "I should've known something was wrong when Kurt separated himself from them."

"How?" Lydia demanded. "As far as Kurt was concerned, he was integrated. Yes, the fact that he severed their ties was surprising, but not completely shocking. They know what he went through. They know Dylan. Kurt thought McKinley would be a fresh start for him and he didn't want to be bogged down by his past. He did it as much as for them as he did for himself." She paused. "That is, if he did it at all. It was most likely the other alter, distancing himself from Santana and Matt so they wouldn't recognize it was happening again."

He groaned.

"You can't be so hard on yourself, Burt," she said quietly. "There's no logical reason you should have known. Most likely this personality has been there from the beginning, watching and studying Kurt, waiting for his or her opportunity to come out. When they saw it, they seized it."

"Her?" asked a startled Carole.

Lydia nodded. "Alters aren't confined by gender. It's possible for the waking self to have alters of the opposite sex. Alters have different intelligence and emotional quotients, different handwriting, different language capabilities and reading comprehension, and differing views on everything from family to religion to hobbies. They can be different ages, look completely opposite from the walking self, and have different sets of memories, even for the same event."

Carole stared.

"PET scans performed on people suffering from DID who transitioned while being examined show that alters use entirely different neural pathways from the waking self. This alter, whoever it is, could be anyone or anything."

"But what does it want?" Burt sighed.

Lydia was silent for a long moment. "Can you think of any reason whatsoever why this alter would be actively trying to hurt Kurt?" she finally asked. "Has it done anything to harm him?"

Burt frowned and, the more he considered the question, the less sure of everything he became. "Not really," he eventually answered. "Whoever it is, they get good grades, help around the house and the shop..." he trailed off, wringing his hands. "I'm closer to Kurt now than I ever have been," he softly admitted. "This alter, whoever it is, came out to me. He took care of me after the heart attack." He sighed. "Kurt won't remember any of that."

"Perhaps him not remembering the heart attack will be a blessing," Lydia murmured. "I can't even imagine how he will react to the news that he was almost an orphan." She shook her head sadly and then cleared her throat. "As for coming out, that's something we should tackle, making sure that Kurt understands you accepted this alter's sexuality." She arched a brow. "You did, yes?"

Burt fidgeted. "It hasn't been easy, but I've tried my best." He looked away. "I've not always ... supported him the way I should have, I know. I've said some stuff ..."

Lydia nodded. "Understood." She flashed him a pained smile. "I've been dealing with that myself. It's not easy. It _should_ be. As their parents, we want them to be happy, but it's just not something we expected for them and we've seen how the world will treat our children."

He stared at her. "Santana?"

She nodded. "She was dating Brittany Pierce for two years, even though Santana continued to have sex with boys."

He blinked. "Brittany? The dizzy blond?"

Lydia scowled. "Brittany is a sweet girl."

"I know that!" he said vehemently. "She's one of ... his ... best friends."

Her eyes filled. "Then this will devastate her. She won't understand, not easily." She sighed. "Or maybe she will. I don't know." She shrugged. "Brittany is surprisingly brilliant with regard to some things."

Burt shook his head, still lost. "He won't know any of them. Mercedes, Artie, Tina, Brittany." He wiped his face with a hand. "His best friends, and he won't know them. They won't understand. They won't accept it. Even if they don't blame him, they will at first."

Lydia nodded patiently. "Which is another reason he shouldn't return to McKinley. The last thing he needs is to be reminded constantly that someone else was living his life. They'll try to cajole him into remembering them, not realizing that not only is he unable to access those memories, but that they don't truly belong to him. Without meaning to, they will pressure him and Kurt will buckle under the strain."

She paused. "Burt, you and I both know that Kurt's grip on reality is tenuous at best and we can be sure that Dylan is looking for any opening to come out. We have no idea what would happen were that to occur. We can't allow him to repeat past actions."

They exchanged grim looks.

"Which were what exactly?" Carole asked softly. "I've tried to accept this on faith and from what I've personally observed, but you have to concede that all of this is somewhat fantastic. Intellectually I understand why this Dylan is a threat, as he can literally hold Kurt hostage in his own mind, but what is that Dylan wants?"

Burt and Lydia looked at each other again and Lydia slowly nodded.

"You should tell her," she said. "She's part of this now, Burt. She has a right to know what to expect."

" _Fuck_ ," Burt whispered, closing his eyes.

Carole watched, breath hitched, as she watched her husband mentally prepare himself to discuss things she knew he would rather not. It was a look with which she was well acquainted. Burt often ignored situations he wished to avoid, usually to the detriment of both himself and Kurt.

Burt swallowed heavily. "You remember when I told you that, at first, I thought of Dylan as an extension of Kurt?"

She nodded.

He averted his eyes. "When I found out what he was doing, I no longer could."

Carole waited, knowing if she demanded clarification, Burt would simply shut himself off from her.

It was several minutes later when Burt was ready to continue.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Kurt is a virgin. I don't know about the new personality, and I'm not sure I particularly want to know, but Dylan definitely is not."

Her face paled.

Burt gnashed his teeth. "Dylan was ... he ... he slept around a lot, Carole."

Carole blinked slowly, unable to assimilate this revelation.

"He had many...partners," Burt continued, voice shaking with rage and pain. "Most of them were older than me."

She shook her head dumbly. "I don't ... I _can't_ ... _what?_ " She blinked harshly. "But ... but he would have been ..."

"Twelve," Lydia softly confirmed. "Dylan was twelve and having sex with men older than Burt."

Carole closed her eyes and tried in vain to will away the images that had come unbidden into her mind. She failed, tears streaming down her face as her stomach heaved. "Kurt doesn't know?" she whispered.

"No," Burt said roughly, eyes raised to the ceiling, "which is probably why the integration failed."

Lydia nodded. "There's too much we don't know about what happened to make Kurt shatter and we withheld a lot from him during his therapy." She sighed. "You have to understand, Carole, that though we had the best intentions, we really didn't know what we were doing. There's no prescribed treatment for this. There's no manual to follow. We were stumbling in the dark, and all of us, but especially Kurt, are now paying for our ignorance."

"Is Dylan a danger to Kurt?" Carole demanded.

Lydia shook her head. "If you're asking whether or not Dylan is suicidal, the answer is no. There are cases of alters who don't know that they _are_ alters. That's not what's happening here. Dylan is well aware that he dies if Kurt does, so, no, he would never endanger Kurt that way."

She paused. "However, the players are no longer the same. If Dylan gets out, there's a whole new list of cast members he can torment, and you and Finn are at the top of the list. He will psychologically torture you for the sheer pleasure of it."

Carole shivered. She wasn't too worried about herself, but Finn ...

"I meant what I said before," Lydia said sternly. "Dylan is a sociopath. He cares for nothing but his own pleasure and will attack anyone or anything that holds meaning for Kurt."

"But I don't mean anything to him," Carole said miserably. "The way he looked at me tonight ... he doesn't know me. He doesn't recognize me as his stepmother."

Lydia sighed. "As far as Kurt is aware, he is still fourteen years old. The last three years haven't happened for him. He didn't see you and Burt fall in love and get married. He didn't experience the three additional years in which we all believed he had moved past his grief for Suzanne."

She swallowed. "That grief was always a terrible, raw thing. As much as he loves his father, Kurt's mother was his entire world. He never got over her death and, frankly, I doubt he ever will. For some people, that's just the way it is."

"Marcus," Burt said quietly.

She sniffled and nodded, before looking at a confused Carole. "My son. He died when he was sixteen. Santana was eleven at the time and, like Kurt, she has been unable to move beyond it. She idolized Marcus. When he died, her relationship with Kurt expanded to a level the rest of us were unable to understand."

"They began finishing each other's sentences," Burt explained. "They knew when the other was calling before they picked up the phone." He waved a hand. "Yeah, they had been best friends for a number of years before then, but this went beyond that. Suzanne's death, then that of Marcus, the DID ... it united Kurt and Santana in a way that was both beautiful and terrifying to see."

"Terrifying?" repeated a mystified Carole.

Burt looked her squarely in the eye. "You know how scary Kurt can be, or at least the boy you know as Kurt."

She nodded, brow furrowed.

"That's nothing to how the real Kurt can make you feel."

Her eyes widened.

"I've explained about Dylan," Lydia interjected, "but you have to understand that his impulses and hatred weren't just born; they were made. He _is_ a part of Kurt. He may be a separate identity, but Kurt created him."

She paused. "I've known Kurt since he was four years old, Carole, all aspects of him, barring this new personality. He was always a sweet, if reserved, child." She raised her eyes and stared at the other woman. "When Dylan attacked Santana, however, I came to realize just how dangerous Kurt himself can be. His anger - his righteous fury - at what Dylan had done was awesome in its scope."

"Kurt is stronger than Dylan," Burt said, "but only when someone else is threatened. For whatever reason, Kurt rolls over when Dylan comes out. He doesn't fight. But when Dylan went after Santana, that was a game changer. The three months following that were hell. We watched as Kurt battled Dylan, trying to reassert himself. Dylan is not, and has never been, suicidal, but there were moments in which I believed my son would kill himself to keep Dylan from hurting anyone else."

Carole shuddered. "What are we going to do?"

"At this point, the best we can hope for is to contain him," Lydia said, holding up a hand. "I know you don't want to do that, Burt, and I understand your reasons, but you have to consider what is best for Kurt and that is making sure that if Dylan _does_ manage to come out, the situation will be under our control, _not his_."

Burt reluctantly nodded.

"What do we tell other people?" Carole quietly asked.

"As little as possible," Lydia said. "The glee club should only be given the basics. We all know how rumors spread at that school."

"If Kurt is committed," Carole argued, "that information will get out no matter how hard we try to suppress it. He's been bullied since his freshman year. People will assume he finally caved. There's no way Brittany, Artie, or Tina will let this go." She shook her head. "Rachel certainly won't. That girl is practically obsessed with Kurt. She believes they're each other's spirit animals, whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

"Mike," Burt grunted.

Lydia frowned. "Mike? Mike Chang? What does he have to do with this?"

Burt sighed, scrubbing his face with a hand. "Kurt's ... the _alter_ ... Chang's his boyfriend."


	3. Fragments

Victoria Lord lingered outside the dining room doors, listening as her family laughed and chattered away over Sunday brunch. She stopped to take a moment and relish that Llanfair was once again filled with her loved ones, at least for today. It wasn't often they all came together and usually when they did, it wasn't long before the inevitable fights broke out. She was grateful that, for whatever reason, they had managed to keep their tempers in check.

She heard her husband Clint arguing good-naturedly with his son Rex Balsom; they weren't close by any stretch of the imagination, but they were slowly getting there. Rex's son Shane had helped tremendously with that; he was a strong boy, a good boy, and Clint respected him. Rex had allowed most of his bitterness to fade after he had married Gigi.

Viki paused in her thoughts to smile. She never would have thought that the best friend she'd ever had in her life would be a straight-shooting, wisecracking, working-class former unwed teenage mother less than half her age, but she loved Gigi to the moon and back. Gigi was so strong, had been through so much, had been _put_ through so much, and she was only stronger from all the strife. The girl had a backbone of steel and had no problem taking it out to whip you across the face with it.

She smirked as she overheard Gigi lecturing Clint and Rex about how to behave in Viki's house, her trademark zingers flying fast and furious.

For the first time in a long time, all of Viki's children were home. Kevin had flown in from London with his grandson Zane; Joey was back from Texas and wasn't looking quite as lost as when he had left Llanview; Natalie's marriage to John McBain was going strong and their son Liam was their treasure; Jessica was raising her two children, daughter Bree and son Ryder, while working full-time at _The Banner_.

Jessie was the one Viki had worried about the most in the past several years, but now she worried the least for her. Jessica had pulled herself together and emerged as an incredibly strong woman. The demons of the past, while not necessarily at rest, no longer controlled her.

She was a devoted and loving mother, and Viki couldn't help but wonder what Jessica's daughters Megan and Chloe would have been like had they lived. Still, she knew that Jessie would never, ever get over losing Nash. He had been her one true love, and though she had loved Brody and perhaps even Ford, her heart ached for Nash and always would.

Viki's surly brother Todd had even put in an appearance with his family; wife Blair, daughters Starr and Dani, son Jack, and Starr's daughter Hope. His twin Victor was still recovering from injuries inflicted on him by that psychopath Allison Perkins and despite how much he and Todd despised one another, he had also reluctantly showed up, along with his wife Tea and son Sam.

As for her sister Tina, Viki knew she was flitting around somewhere on the grounds, most likely with that ridiculous and overly pampered dog. She had sent Lois to collect Tina and bring her back to the house.

She dropped her head and sighed. She didn't want to do this. She didn't even want to discuss it, but knew she must. Kurt...

"Oh, that poor boy," she whispered, shaking her head. How could this be happening again to her family? Were they cursed? Was this the suffering they had to endure for whatever reason? When was it going to stop?

She took in a deep breath, exhaled, and stepped into the dining room.

Immediately Jessica's eyes fell upon her mother, whom she could tell had been crying. Her emotional antennae went straight up. Todd and Victor quickly followed; their love for and devotion to their sister was legion. Viki was the only person for whom they held unconditional love and she was the _only_ one they trusted absolutely.

"Blair," Todd said in a low voice, "take Jack and Hope outside."

Startled, Blair looked up at him, saw him staring at Viki, looked at her, and then nodded. "What about Starr?" she whispered.

"I'd like Starr to stay." He wasn't sure why, but he knew to heed his instinct.

Blair frowned but complied.

Tea was having a similar conversation with Victor and soon enough collected Dani and Sam, shepherding them outside. Jack and Dani were whining about the unfairness of it all and how they were basically adults and why did Starr get to stay?

Starr rolled her eyes, kissed her daughter's cheek, and handed Hope over to Blair, thanking her mother.

John followed with Liam, as well as Bree and Ryder. Zane sulked after them, annoyed by his grandfather's admonition to skedaddle.

"Should I go?" asked a cautious Gigi.

"No," Viki said quickly. "I'd appreciate it if you would stay."

Gigi nodded carefully and sent Rex and their son on their way.

"Viki?" Clint gently asked.

She sat down at the head of the table, her four children moving closer to her.

"Mom?" asked a nervous Natalie.

Tina suddenly blew in, glared at her brothers, smiled at her sister, and sat at the foot of the table, pleased to deny Clint the chance to take it.

Viki sighed and ran her tongue over dry lips. "I'm not sure if you children remember your cousin, Kurt. I don't believe you've ever met him, Natalie."

Natalie shook her head. She had never even _heard_ of this cousin before.

Kevin and Joey burst out laughing.

"He's pretty unforgettable, Mom," Kevin said fondly.

Joey snickered and looked at Natalie. "Kurt is what you get if you combined every person at this table."

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers as she looked at each person in turn. "That's ... a lot of class and sass."

Tina and Jessica laughed.

"I suppose Kurt would technically be considered your second cousin," Viki said for Natalie's benefit. "His mother was Suzanne, the daughter of my first cousin Olivia, who was the daughter of Gwendolyn Lord, my father's younger sister."

Natalie shook her head. "I didn't even know Victor had siblings."

Viki nodded. "Gwendolyn and Powell."

Todd and Victor released a simultaneous growl before turning and glaring at each other.

Natalie held her tongue. She had definitely heard of Powell; well, the third one at any rate.

Jessica was patiently waiting for her mother to get to the point, though she was fairly certain she didn't want to know what information Viki was about to impart.

"What's happened to him, Viki?" Gigi quietly probed.

Viki involuntarily flinched and the entire family went on red alert.

"Is he all right?" Kevin demanded.

"Has he been in an accident?" Joey asked.

"Has something happened to his father?" Tina asked. She had only met Kurt the one time but had found him absolutely delightful. He shared her love of fashion and her fascination with jewelry.

"Burt had a heart attack last year, didn't he?" Jessica asked.

Viki nodded. "It's not Burt." She paused. "Kurt is moving to Llanview."

The others heaved collective sighs of relief.

"Is that all?" Joey laughed. "Well, good! I'm always glad to have more family around. Is he going to LU? He's at that age, isn't he?"

"Kurt is seventeen," Viki said softly, "but, no, he is not going to LU." She cleared her throat. "He will live at St. Anne's."

Complete and utter silence.

"Why?" Jessica finally croaked.

Viki turned toward her with compassionate eyes.

Jessica shook her head in horror. "No," she said, tears already streaming down her cheeks. "No. He's just a _child_."

"Who did it?" an angry Todd bellowed before leaping to his feet. His chair crashed loudly to the floor behind him and he began to pace.

Starr, who kept in fairly frequent contact with Kurt, covered her face with her hands and began softly crying.

"What's going on?" asked a bewildered Kevin.

"Isn't it obvious?" a furious Victor muttered. He had memories of meeting Kurt, but knew now those memories were false, implanted within him by his mother. It was actually Todd who had met Kurt those several years ago.

Regardless, he remembered how much Kurt had liked Todd, had sassed and harassed him, and Todd had loved every minute of it. Kurt and Starr had gotten on like a house afire, they were so much alike.

Viki sighed. "Kurt has DID."

Joey's eyes welled. "But that means ... that means someone ..."

Viki bit her lip and nodded. "Most likely, yes."

"This family is cursed," Jessica said darkly.

"Honey ..." Viki began, despite her own similar thoughts just minutes before.

Tina scoffed. "She's right, Viki. Our own father raped you for years. Mitch Laurence raped you and tried to rape both Jessica and Natalie. Johnny Dee tried to rape me, and if you hadn't shot him, he would've."

Viki said nothing. It was actually Niki Smith, one of her alters, who had shot Johnny; while Viki had been horrified, she had protected her sister, which was more important.

"Paul Cramer also tried to rape me," Natalie whispered.

"Norman Leeds," Jessica seethed, hands clenching into fists.

"Margaret Cochran," muttered an embarrassed Victor.

"Zach Rosen tried," Starr murmured.

Todd and Victor scowled thunderously. It wasn't enough that Rosen was in jail; they both wanted that asshole dead and they both wanted to be the one to kill him.

"Peter Manning," Todd said softly, "and Mitch Laurence."

"What!" asked an alarmed Viki, eyes filled with horror. The same man who had raped her, who had tried to rape both her daughters, had also raped her _brother_?

Jessica stood and flew toward Todd, pulling him into her arms.

Natalie, who had always hated Todd, who pretty much loathed her in return, couldn't help but curl a lip in distaste. She felt sorry him, absolutely, but she didn't like that he was so close to Jessica. A little voice inside her head told her she resented their relationship, but she told that voice to shut up.

Kevin and Joey, both supremely uncomfortable, silently boggled. Todd allowed almost no one to touch him. Blair and the kids, certainly, and Viki usually. The brothers had no problem admitting they both despised Todd and rued that they were in any way related to him, but this information ... it explained _a lot_.

They would have to unpack and process it later, but they did feel for him. No one, especially a child, should have to endure such savagery. It still tore them up that their mother and their baby sister had gone through it; knowing their uncle had, as well, was very sad.

Todd and Jessica had always been incredibly close. Everyone knew there was nothing Todd wouldn't do for Jessica, no demon he wouldn't slay and no man he wouldn't murder and then dismember. When Victor began impersonating Todd, Jessica was one of the last to accept him as Todd and, when the real Todd returned, she was the first to accept him at face value. They understood each other perfectly and related on a whole other level.

Victor couldn't help but look at his brother. He knew his hatred for Todd was irrational; that if anyone should be furious it was _Todd_ , who'd had his life high-jacked and was imprisoned and tortured for almost a decade. That it had been done on the orders of their own mother was a bitter pill to swallow.

Thanks to Irene, he had the memories of Todd's rapes but, on some level, he had always felt removed from them, as though he were a witness and not the victim.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Viki whispered.

Tina stared at Todd with horror plain on her face. She hadn't known, she didn't want to know now, but it explained _so much_ about her brother. Her eyes slid toward Victor and she realized that he had the memories as well.

"She knew," Tina hissed. "Irene _knew_ what they did to Todd because she gave Victor those memories." She shook her head in wonder. "What kind of mother allows her child to be raped and does _nothing_ to stop it? How does she brainwash her other child into believing it happened to him? What a sick _bitch_."

Victor smirked and raised his glass at her. "Welcome to the hate parade, sis."

Tina scoffed. "I've hated that woman a lot longer than you have." Nevertheless, she touched her glass to his.

"What about Kurt?" Gigi asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. Viki was the best friend she had ever had in her life and she loved the woman only slightly less than she did her own child, but she felt like a voyeur. This pain, this terrible pain, was not hers to share.

At once, everyone settled and waited for Viki to answer.

"Kurt began showing signs when he was about eleven but, for the most part, they went unnoticed. Burt was still mourning Suzanne and working full-time, and we all know how well these alters can impersonate the core personality."

They all nodded ruefully.

"Oddly it was a little girl Kurt's own age, his best friend, who was the first to put all of the pieces together."

Kevin whistled. "That's a smart cookie."

"What's her name?" Starr asked.

Viki frowned. "I believe Burt said her name is Santana."

Starr snorted. "Well, that explains it. Kurt's told me about her. Santana is a lot like ... well, like Aunt Dorian, actually. You don't want to mess with her."

Viki gave a small smile. "At any rate, Santana observed Kurt's changes in behavior. She witnessed him talking to himself, actually arguing with himself, and she confronted him. This alter, who was out at the time, is named Dylan. He attacked her. He threw her down the basement stairs of her own home, locked the door, and left her, unconscious, either for dead or for her parents to find."

"Jesus," Natalie muttered.

Jessica stared intently at her mother, though she remained with her arms around Todd. "Is Dylan the only one?"

Viki shook her head. "Dylan was the first to manifest, but Burt, as well as Kurt's psychiatrist, who is also Santana's mother, are aware of at least one other personality. They don't know his name." She looked down at the table. "Whoever it is, they've been in possession of the body for three years."

"Th-three _years_?" Jessica faintly repeated, shaking her head. "How is that even possible? How did no one notice?"

Viki shrugged with helplessness. "Apparently this alter is incredibly good at impersonating Kurt. The transition was so seamless that no one ever really noticed the difference and, for whatever reason, this alter is not self-destructive. He continued to maintain a high grade average, is a prominent member of the school's glee club, and the captain of the cheerleading squad, which he just led to a national title."

Jessica frowned. This made absolutely no sense to her. "I don't understand," she said frankly. "That doesn't sound like the behavior of an alter." She blinked and smiled wryly. "Well, at least not one of ours."

Viki nodded. "Burt and Lydia, the psychiatrist, have no explanation."

Starr shook her head. "I've kept in contact with Kurt. We email at least once a month and I've never gotten any sense that he's anyone but Kurt. He's exactly like the boy we remember." She frowned. "It almost sounds like ... " She trailed off and tittered. "That wouldn't make any sense."

"Tell us, honey," Todd coaxed his daughter.

"Well," Starr said, fidgeting, "it sounds like Kurt created an alter of ... Kurt. I mean, like, another version of himself. Not a separate part like Niki or Tess, but more like ... a makeover? Does that make any sense?"

Viki nodded slowly. "I believe I understand what you're suggesting, sweetheart, and it _does_ make sense, as much sense as this illness can make."

"But there still has to be a gatekeeper," Jessica said. "I had Bess Lord and you had Jean Randolph, Mom, and we know how they work. They're a failsafe who intercedes when the others threaten the core personality, even though they can be just as destructive."

"We don't really know, darling," Viki cautioned. "There's nothing that demands a gatekeeper personality has to be created. Perhaps Kurt simply doesn't have one."

"I didn't know about Bess until it was far too late," Jessica argued.

Viki nodded and looked away. "Point taken."

"How bad is it?" Natalie asked.

"Well, Kurt regained awareness only last night. He still believes he's fourteen and a freshman in high school. Burt remarried last year, and Kurt has no memory of his stepmother Carole or his stepbrother Finn. Apparently, both were quite close with this other personality, so of course they're devastated that they might lose the Kurt they've come to know and love so much."

"And Dylan?" Victor asked.

Viki pursed her lips. "That is why Kurt's psychiatrist is insisting on having him committed, on the off chance that Dylan will emerge. He is Kurt's Niki or Tess. He is incredibly destructive, manipulative, and deceitful. He is violent and hypersexual. He's a true sociopath."

"What has he done?" Joey asked.

"The last time Dylan was out, at least as far as anyone knows, was when Kurt was twelve." She said nothing for several long moments and finally closed her eyes. "Dylan was having sex with men older than Burt."

Starr leaned over and retched; her father was quickly at her side.

"Does Kurt know?" Jessica asked in a haunted voice.

Viki shook her head. "No. He's aware of Dylan, or at least that Dylan exists, but he has no idea who this other personality is or why it was created. He doesn't know if there are others. He doesn't know why he created them in the first place, nor does he know about Dylan's ... activities."

Todd was breathing heavily. "What kind of sick bastard looks at a little boy, a _child_ , and wants to do ... _that_?" He sent imploring eyes toward his sister. "I don't understand. I'll never understand."

"Neither will I," Viki said quietly, "and I never want to understand that."

"So what happens now?" Kevin asked.

Viki cleared her throat and nodded. "Kurt will be arriving tomorrow. He'll stay here for the night and then head to St. Anne's the next day. If his treatment goes well, he'll be spending weekends here." She looked at each of them in turn. "Please do whatever is in your power to make him feel welcome."

"Of course," Jessica said, answering for all of them.

* * *

Santana watched from the end of the stairs as Kurt slept. She wondered who would wake up.

Her eyes slid toward Finn and she couldn't help the grudging respect she was beginning to form for him. She didn't like him, never would, but he was truly and sincerely devoted to Kurt. They fought frequently but they really did love each other.

She sighed. Both she and Finn had stayed home from school today, but would go to campus later with Burt to explain things to New Directions. Burt had to withdraw Kurt from the school officially. Santana, meanwhile, had overruled her mother's suggestion about keeping Kurt's condition secret from the glee club. There was absolutely no way Kurt could leave McKinley without Mercedes and Rachel going insane and trying to ferret out why. They would be relentless.

She had called and talked to Matt for over two hours. She hadn't known he was capable of speaking for that long a period. He hadn't spoken that _much_ , of course, but he had helped. She had forgotten just how good a friend he was. They had never been very close, only connected through Kurt, but he was calm and thoughtful and he _listened_.

It had been his idea to use Finn. She was still skeptical, but it was growing on her.

She shook her head, sighed, and crossed into the room, coming to stand at the foot of the bed.

"I'm going to need your help," she told Finn quietly.

He looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes, tearstains dried onto his face. "With what?" he croaked. It didn't really matter, though; he would do anything to help Kurt, even if he had to align himself with Satan herself.

"Glee," she said through clenched teeth, obviously want to snap at him and only barely reining herself in. "I won't be able to control both Mercedes and Rachel. You need to make sure your girlfriend doesn't show up on this doorstep and harass Kurt, because he won't be able to handle it."

Finn frowned in concentration but at last nodded. He knew Santana was right; Rachel was kind of obsessed with Kurt and wouldn't let him go without a fight. She acted first and thought about it later - a lot like he did, really - and she couldn't do that now, not when it was almost sure to hurt his brother.

"What about Brittany?" he whispered.

Santana flinched. "I don't know. I can't predict how she'll react to certain situations. She loves Kurt, or the person we all thought Kurt was. She'll be hurt, probably devastated."

That made Finn even sadder. A hurt Brittany was just _wrong_. It should never happen.

"How much are you going to tell them?" he asked.

"Everything," she said. "That's the only way it will work. They need to understand that he doesn't know them, he has no memories of them. He can't remember the past three years. They were friends with someone else."

"And Mike?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know. He loves ... whoever this personality is. I don't know how to help him with that. Maybe Matt can. He's coming this weekend."

Finn nodded. That was good, he supposed. He turned and looked back at Kurt. "When does he leave?"

"Two hours."

"When will he come back?"

She turned away, blinking heavily. "I don't know."

She didn't fucking know _anything_ and it was really pissing her off.


	4. Remnants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note** : With this chapter, much of the story will shift to Llanview, the setting of _One Life to Live. For those unfamiliar with the show's canon, I'm afraid it might be difficult to follow this story. I'll be referring to its canon with great frequency and, while I'll always try to explain in the text the history of that canon, some of the story necessitates that it be written with familiarity in mind. I hope you'll stick with me on it but, if you can't, I certainly understand._
> 
> _Some other asides: Bree Williamson is playing Jessica in this. As much as I loved Erin Torpey, Bree became, at least for me, Jessica Buchanan. I love Gigi Morasco, and not just because I love Farah Fath, the actress who portrayed her (and who follows me on Twitter!). I dislike Natalie intensely, so her fans might be disappointed here. I love Todd. I love his flaws. Roger Howarth is and always will be the real Todd Manning, at least to me. I love Blair. Todd/Blair FOR LIFE. TSJ is a great actor, but I never bought into him as Todd. They didn't even write him as Todd. The things he did as Todd were SO un-Toddlike that ... no. Also, making some characters gay just because I can. Some characters who are dead are really not and others who have been gone a while will be making returns._
> 
> _I'm setting this at about six months after the show ended on ABC. I'm ignoring the shit Prospect Place did because WHAT THE FUCK. They almost ruined one of my stories. Hell no! So, Victor Jr. survived and escaped from Allison. Todd was cleared of all wrongdoing. Todd, Blair, and Starr never went to Port Charles, so Hope is just fine. YOU DON'T KILL OFF LEGACY CHARACTERS! AUGH. Marty, Patrick, and Cole reunited and moved to New York. I'm ignoring that INSANITY that was Marty's last few years on the show. That rapemance with Todd/Victor was DISGUSTING and then her breakdown was just stupid. She survives a gang rape, her husband being (supposedly) murdered, her son the addict, etc., but she's felled because of some man and Natalie Buchanan? HAHAHAHA! NO._
> 
> _On with the soapiness!_

Santana stood before the rest of Glee and tamped down her anxiety. She didn't give a shit what these people thought; all that mattered was protecting Kurt. She gave Finn the side-eye and repressed a scowl. The idiot looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment. She doubted he'd be of any use to her. She didn't think Finn had much use, period.

She still wasn't sure she had made the right choice about asking Pillsbury to attend, but she thought it better to be safe than sorry. She certainly couldn't count on Schuester to act like an adult. Besides, Pillsbury had a damn degree in psychology and it was about time she used it.

She also has asked Sylvester to monitor the proceedings. She figured a bouncer was in order.

"Santana has an announcement to make," Will said, frowning, "regarding Kurt."

She rolled her eyes as Rachel and Mercedes blinked owlishly and sat up straight, opening their mouths at the same time. She held up a hand.

"Patience, hags," she said dismissively. "There's a lot of information I have to impart and you _will_ keep your mouths shut until I've finished."

"Santana ..." Will began with reproach.

The gaze she turned on him was so fierce, he blanched and backed up two steps.

Sylvester smirked.

"And just what is it you _think_ you know about my boy, Chola Barbie?" Mercedes huffed, crossing her arms defensively across her chest.

Rachel, still seated, narrowed her eyes, put her hands on her hips, and sent an ineffectual glare at Santana, who rolled her eyes and waved it off.

"Wheels, Asian, riddle me this! You've known Kurt since kindergarten. Who were his best friends through eighth grade?"

Everyone turned toward Tina and Artie with questioning eyes.

"Matt," Artie said.

"And you," Tina said.

"No way," Mercedes breathed.

" _Way_ , Queen of Tots," Santana barked. "Rainbow was mine long before he was yours - if he ever _was_ yours - so kindly shut the f ..."

"Watch it, Lopez!" Sue growled.

Santana glared mutinously but complied.

"It's true," Mike said, gazing at Santana with curiosity. "Kurt and Matt were best friends for a long time, even before Matt and I met and became best friends. Then something happened freshman year and suddenly Kurt started acting like he didn't even know Matt."

Brittany frowned. "I remember that." She turned toward Santana. "I remember you being upset because Kurt kept ignoring you."

"Can you blame him?" drawled a snotty Rachel.

"Shut up, Rachel," Finn said crossly.

She gasped and her eyes filled with tears.

He rolled his in reply. "Yeah, no. Remember when you showed me you could cry on cue? Spare us."

Santana looked at him with mild appreciation.

Rachel scowled and closed her mouth.

"Look," Santana growled, "I have things to do, so could you all let me explain what's going on? Or do you not care why Kurt wasn't here today or that he's withdrawn from McKinley altogether?"

A collective gasp rose, including from even Puck.

Mike's face marred with hurt.

"Just let me explain, okay?" Santana asked, her tone more gentle.

He nodded.

She sighed. "Kurt is ... very sick. He's had to withdraw from school this semester - and probably for the entire year - to get treatment and ..."

"Oh, god!" Rachel screeched, leaping to her feet. "He's got cancer! Just like his mother!"

Horrified chatter broke out.

"That is _it!_ " Santana bellowed, crossing the space and throwing Rachel back into her chair before getting up in her face. "Now you listen to me, you little bitch. We're all sick and tired of your obsession with Kurt. He doesn't have cancer and who the fuck are you to insinuate as much?

"And don't you _ever_ speak of his mother again. You didn't know her. _I did_. She was like another mother to both me and Rutherford. If you think for _one minute_  I'll allow you to invoke just so you can supplement your pathetic bid for a spotlight which is not even yours, I will kick your uppity ass until Hell take it back!"

Rachel had been sinking lower and lower in her chair until she was danger of slipping from it. Her face was beet red and she couldn't meet Santana's eyes.

Thankfully Artie had the presence of mind to start a round of applause, which was quickly picked up by Sylvester, Tina, Puck, and even Finn.

Mercedes stared.

Will and Emma's mouths hung open.

Santana cleared her throat and stepped back. "Before I tell any of you any of this, you will swear not to tell _anyone_. If you do, I will know and I will find and hurt you. Is any of what I just said in any way unclear?"

They all obediently shook their heads.

"The teachers present are free to speak of this amongst themselves. For whatever reason, Kurt likes and/or trusts you." A look passed across her face, one which the others were unable to determine. "As for the students, you may speak to each other and your parents, but _no one else_. Kurt has been the subject of far too much gossip at this hellhole and I will not have his personal, private business spread around like low-fat margarine."

They all nodded.

She sighed and sat down on the piano bench. "Kurt is very sick, but it's not a physical sickness. Kurt ... is mentally ill."

Just saying the words pained her and, against her will, tears began slipping down her face.

That signaled to Brittany and Puck just how serious this was. Santana never cried, especially not over other people. Panic slowly infiltrated Brittany's mind. Kurt was sick or hurt or scared, and that just _was not okay_.

"What do you mean?" Mike barked. "There's nothing wrong with him!"

Finn sighed. "Dude, just let her talk, okay? I know he's your boyfriend, but she's his best friend. She and Matt are the only ones he trusted with this. Matt's coming this weekend to talk to you about it; we figured you'd only really believe it if he verified this."

Mike stared. Matt was traveling _across the country_ just to back up this story? The fuck?

Puck was bewildered. "The fairy is hardcore, man," he said, shaking his head. "He's super smart and has his shit together. How is it that he's crazy?"

"He's not crazy!" Finn and Santana screamed.

"Puck," Emma said in a frosty voice, "if I ever again hear you refer to Kurt or any other student by that derogatory term, I will issue you a detention for the rest of the school year. No one, including Principal Figgins or Coach Beiste, will be able to overturn it. So start thinking before you open your mouth. Is that clear?"

Puck stared at her with wide, startled eyes and nodded.

She kept an eye on him as she addressed Santana. "I'm aware of Kurt's condition." She turned toward the girl. "I can only assume it's reasserted itself?"

"Yes," Santana whispered.

Emma bit her lip and shook her head. Her acknowledgment that Kurt indeed had a condition signaled to the others that he truly was ill.

"What's wrong with him?" Tina asked softly. "I remember seventh and eighth grade. He was gone for months at a time."

Santana nodded. "He was receiving treatment. Unfortunately, it wasn't successful." She rolled her neck and looked out at the audience, her gaze ensnaring them all. "Kurt suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder." She paused. "Do any of you know what that is?"

Sylvester bellowed with rage and stomped from the room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"I guess she knows," Finn said, shrugging.

"You're talking about multiple personalities," Quinn said, her voice shaky. "Are you serious? Kurt has _multiple personalities?_ "

Puck burst out laughing.

"Dude!" Finn screamed, leaping to his feet. "It's not funny, you fucking douchebag! Kurt is my brother and he doesn't know who I am! He doesn't know who my mom is! He's had to be sedated! He has to go to a special clinic outside Philadelphia to get help! There's nothing funny about this!"

Puck shut up and swallowed heavily.

"H-How can Kurt not know who you are, Finn?" asked a hesitant Rachel.

Finn heaved a sigh and sat back down heavily in his chair. He shook his head and looked down at the floor.

"Why the hell should we believe any of this?" Mercedes demanded.

"Because I've known him since we were in Pull-Ups, princess," Santana said, glowering. "Matt and I knew about one of the personalities, or alters. His name is Dylan. He's, well, he's like Puck, actually; a violent, hypersexual sociopath."

"What the fuck!" Puck howled, face flushed.

"And how is it you know this Dylan?" Mercedes asked, tone mocking.

Santana fixed her with a steady gaze. "Because he tried to kill me, Jones." She raised an eyebrow. "What do you think? Do you think that means I know who Dylan is?"

"What do you mean?" asked a horrified Brittany.

Santana pursed her lips. "Uncle Burt was working a lot, so he missed a lot of the signs, but Kurt and I were together all day, almost every day. I saw the changes. When I finally pieced enough together, I confronted him at my house. He laughed and admitted his name was Dylan.

"He told me to look into his eyes and said that Kurt wasn't home. He then grabbed me by my waist and threw me down my basement stairs, all twenty-two of them. Concrete. I was unconscious. He left and locked the door behind him. Luckily, my mother found me before it was too late."

"Jesus Christ," Puck whispered, shaking his head. "Holy shit."

"You actually believe this mess?" asked an incredulous Mercedes.

"Why the fuck would she lie about this?" Puck hissed. "What does she get out of it? _Nothing_."

"You can ask Burt or my mom," Finn grunted. "Or Santana's mom. She's Kurt's psychiatrist."

Mercedes fell silent and looked down at her hands, which were twitching in her lap.

"Kurt doesn't know who most of you are," Santana said, not unkindly. "He, for lack of a better term, woke up last night. As far as he knows, he's fourteen years old. He thinks he's just started McKinley."

"That's ridiculous!" Rachel denied.

Santana glared. "He knows Artie and Tina. He vaguely knows you and Jones from the handful of glee club meetings he remembers attending but, as far as he's concerned, you're not friends. You're barely acquaintances."

Rachel again burst into tears - genuine ones - and Mercedes began sobbing.

Santana dismissed them from her mind. She felt sorry for them, sure, but she had never liked them, never would, and thought Kurt could do much better. She turned toward Mike and her eyes softened.

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "He doesn't remember you either. He doesn't remember being your boyfriend."

Mike shook his head, stood, and fled from the room.

"I'll go after him," Emma said, quickly giving chase.

Santana sighed and nodded.

"Why does he think he's fourteen?" Tina asked. "Why that age?"

"We don't know," Santana said. "That's the last time Kurt remembers being out."

Quinn frowned. "Being out? What does that mean? I don't understand. You don't mean out of the closet, do you?"

Santana shook her head. "That's what it's called when one of the other alters is in control. Kurt is the core personality, called the waking self. Dylan is the alter who Uncle Burt, my mom, Matt, and me knew about." She paused. "But there's another one. We don't know its name or function, but it's been in control of the body for the past three years."

Quinn and Brittany began crying.

"Kurt distinctly remembers starting McKinley, but as far as he knows, he's only two months into his freshman year. We don't know why. Something happened that necessitated this unknown alter into taking control."

Something flashed in Puck's eyes. Santana narrowed hers and filed it away so as to interrogate him later.

"He really tried to kill you?" asked a skeptical Will.

Santana rolled her eyes. " _No. Dylan_ tried to kill me. He and Kurt are completely separate identities. They don't think alike. They don't talk alike. They don't even look alike. They're not even the same age!"

Mercedes gave an exaggerated blink. "What does that even mean?"

"Dylan is perpetually twenty-one," Santana explained. "As I said, he's a sociopath. He cares about nothing but himself and his pleasure. He has no emotions. He speaks differently, he has different handwriting, and he has different personality traits. He drinks, he smokes, and he's always looking to get laid."

Rachel burst into hysterical laughter. "He trolls for sex?" She shook her head. "That's not Kurt."

"That's the point," Finn interrupted. "Dylan _isn't_ Kurt. They have nothing in common. Dylan hates Kurt. The only reason he hasn't tried to do anything to Kurt is because he understands that if Kurt dies, so does he."

Rachel stared at him.

"Wait," Quinn interrupted. "You said that you and Kurt were in seventh grade when Dylan was last ... out. Are you saying that he was ..."

Santana gave her a flat look.

Quinn shook her head dumbly. "He would have been _twelve_."

Santana said nothing.

"Oh, god," Artie murmured, gripping his chair so hard the vinyl on the armrests began to tear. "But who would ..."

"Pedos," Finn hissed, swiping at the angry tears he was shedding.

He was still furious; furious that it had happened and furious that Burt and his mom hadn't wanted to tell him. He never thought he'd be grateful for Santana, but she was the only who realized that if he was going to be of any use at all to Kurt, he had to know everything. He had to know in order to understand. She had told him the truth and, though he had been horrified and murderous, he appreciated her honesty.

Brittany's cries turned to heaving sobs.

"But what caused this?" asked a devastated Sam. He flinched when everyone turned to stare at him, as though they had forgotten he was even there, as if he wasn't part of the group. It happened all too often. "Why is Kurt like this? Why the split?"

Santana looked away. "Typically, the etiology for DID is severe child abuse; specifically, sexual abuse," she said, voice tinny and robotic.

"What the hell are you saying?" a disbelieving Mercedes gasped.

"He was raped!" Finn exploded, voice raspy and wet. " _That's_ what she's saying. Do you get it now? When he was a little kid, we don't know when, Kurt was _raped_. That's why he shattered into these alters, Dylan and this other one with no name."

They were shocked to silence. They said nothing because some part of the minds refused to acknowledge his words, let alone register their meaning.

Sam clenched his hands into fists and looked down, forcing back his tears. He and Kurt weren't close, were barely friends, so he had no reason to be reacting this way. He had told himself over and over that Kurt was with Mike, that they were happy, and he had forced himself to accept that. Mostly.

He had thrown himself into other relationships, first with Quinn and then Santana and now Mercedes, but it wasn't working. He was coming to realize that it never would. He could never be what they wanted and they could never be who he needed.

He needed Kurt. He wanted Kurt. But apparently Kurt wasn't even Kurt, so who the hell was Kurt? Sam suspected he would never really know and was desolate for it.

"Are there others?" Artie whispered. "Are there other alters?"

Santana sighed. "There usually are. Five years ago, my mother tried to integrate Kurt and Dylan. It appeared to work, but now it's obvious that it didn't." She rubbed her eyes with a hand. "Most likely because this other alter, the one who's not Dylan, already existed. We don't know if there are others, but it's highly probable.

"Look, I know that I'm not explaining any of this very well and, for that, I'm sorry. I am. I never thought I'd be here. I never thought I'd have to explain this to anyone. I thought it was over."

Her breath hitched and, against her will, tears began slipping down her face anew.

"You have to understand; I've lived through this once already and I lost the best friend I've ever had because of it. It kills me that I can't help him, but I can't. None of us can. Kurt has to do this work alone. It's the only way he's ever going to be whole. He needs specialized treatment, which he'll receive in Llanview."

"Llanview," Tina repeated. "That's in Pennsylvania, right? Why there?"

Santana and Finn exchanged a glance. He nodded and she sighed once more.

"This disease is unique. It's rare and a large portion of the medical community doesn't even believe it's real, but it is. I know it. I've  _seen_ it." She cleared her throat. "Kurt will be receiving treatment from Susannah Hanen; she's successfully integrated other cases of DID." She paused and pursed her lips. "She integrated Kurt's cousin."

Will gasped. "This ... this runs in his family?"

Santana shook her head. "It's not a biological condition, but perhaps there is some predisposition. His cousin has it and so does her daughter."

"Who is this cousin?" Mercedes demanded. "Kurt doesn't have any other family!"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Why? Because he didn't tell you about them? Do you think nothing about Kurt's life is real unless he shares it with you? He was just _born_ when you moved to Lima, Jones. Have you even comprehended that Kurt, the _real_ Kurt, has no idea who you are? You're best friends with an alter ego."

Quinn meant to interject but was cut off.

"His cousin is Victoria Lord."

Silence.

All of them, even Puck, knew the name.

"The publisher of _The Banner_?" Rachel asked.

Santana nodded.

"The owner of Lord Enterprises?" Artie pressed. "The heir of Victor Lord?"

"She's one of them."

"How is she related to Kurt?" asked a confused Quinn.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Why is this even an issue? Who cares!" She threw up her hands. "You know what? Fine, let's do this. Victor Lord had one sister and one brother. His sister was Gwendolyn, who birthed Olivia, who birthed Suzanne, who birthed Kurt. The brother was Powell, whose descendants aren't worth much notice, save the one who was a serial rapist and killed a few years ago."

Tina's eyes widened. "Was he the one who ... ?"

"Powell was institutionalized for most of Kurt's life. Kurt has never met him. Powell is not responsible."

"I've read about Viki Lord," Brittany said, frowning. "I did a paper on her for my Modern Media class. She had six alters."

" _Six?_ " whispered a horrified Mercedes.

"Her father raped her for years," Brittany continued. "Her daughter has DID, too." She looked around at the others. "Remember that big story a couple of years ago? Jessica Brennan switched her dead baby with her cousin's live one. Well, one of her alters did."

"I remember," said a distracted Artie, trying to recall the details. His mouth fell open. "Her cousin ... her father is _Todd Manning_."

Another name that was well-known and drew hisses in response.

"Save it," Santana snapped. "You don't know Todd."

"And you do?" Rachel demanded. "You know the gang rapist, do you?"

"Oh, fuck you, Berry," she seethed. "You don't know these people. I  _do_. So does Kurt. They're his _family_. You have _no idea_ what they've been made to endure, so shut your trap before I rip your intestines from your gut and hang you from the rafters with them!"

"Whoa," Puck whispered.

"I'd be careful, Rachel," said a prim Quinn. "That threat was far too detailed to be considered merely idle."

Rachel was about to retort, which was never a good idea.

Finn, sensing Santana's impending explosion, decided to intervene. "I'm not sure you all are really getting this. Most of us have never met the real Kurt. He has _no memories_ of the last three years and this is way beyond just New Directions. He doesn't remember any of his classes. He doesn't remember learning anything in high school. He doesn't remember how to _drive_. We've had to keep him away from mirrors. We all know how much he's changed physically in just the past few months. He won't recognize _himself_."

"Oh, my god," Rachel whispered, shaking her head, the scope of the situation finally beginning to sink in.

"Is that why he's sedated?" Sam quietly asked.

Finn nodded. "It's a light sedation, but it's constant. We have to keep him relaxed until we can get him to the clinic." His lip quivered. "We can't take the chance that the other one - or, god forbid, _Dylan_ \- will come out."

"That's the thing," Santana added. "Uncle Burt, my mom, and I know Dylan, but this other one, whoever it is, had all of us fooled. If it takes over again, we won't necessarily realize it. The longer Kurt is in control, even if it requires sedation, the stronger he becomes and the less likely it is that Dylan will be able to sublimate him."

"You're really scared of this Dylan person," Puck noted with unease.

"He tried to kill her!" Brittany screamed. "What part of that wasn't clear?"

He cringed and slunk down in his seat.

"And when Kurt realized that," Santana said softly, "when he knew that a part of him hurt me, even though he wasn't in control of the situation, even though he wasn't cognizant of it even happening, that's when things really came to a head."

Finn nodded. "Whoever this other personality is, it knows Kurt and how to impersonate him. It even shares some of his traits." He exhaled. "We all know that Kurt, the person we know as Kurt, never defends himself, but he will always defend his friends."

The others nodded.

"Well," Santana continued, "the real Kurt is like that, too. Most of the time when Dylan took over, Kurt didn't fight him too hard. Maybe it's because he couldn't or didn't know how; I don't know. But when Dylan attacked me, the shock of it was enough to cause Kurt to emerge." She looked down. "He was so angry, so _furious_ , and _so_ hurt that any part of him had hurt me, we thought that he might hurt himself to make sure Dylan would never have the chance to hurt anyone else."

Mercedes gaped. "You mean ... "

"I mean that we didn't know," Santana interrupted, "but it was something we had to consider. We have to consider it now, especially when we don't know who this other alter is or what it wants."

"How can we help him?" Sam asked.

Santana blinked and turned to stare at him. "Thank you for asking, Trou ... Sam." She gave him a tight smile. "And isn't it sad you're the only one who did?"

* * *

Todd and Blair were lying next to each other on their bed in her suite at La Boulaie.

"What the hell is a Boulaie?" Todd demanded.

Blair snickered. "It means _birch grove_."

Todd gave her an incredulous look and sneered. "Whatever. When are we moving out?"

"Why should we?" Blair asked. "These digs are pretty sweet and we don't even have to pay Dorian rent."

Todd averted his eyes. "This used to be Marty's house."

Blair blinked owlishly. How in the world had she forgotten that? Suddenly she didn't want to live there either. "We'll start looking for our own place tomorrow."

He nodded, pleased.

"So are you going to tell me about the big powwow after lunch at Llanfair," she asked, "or why Jessica and Starr were hanging all over you for the rest of the day?" She raised a brow. "And why you let them?"

Against his will, he blushed. "Our cousin Kurt is moving to Llanview. Do you remember him?"

She scoffed. "Of course I do. He's only a few years younger than Starr." She smiled. "He was an adorable kid. He had both you and Dorian wrapped around his tiny finger. He was six years old and flirted outrageously with you, leaving you a blushing, blubbering mess. It was _awesome_."

She frowned deeply when she heard his breath hitch.

"Todd, what's wrong?" she asked softly. "This, whatever this is, is about something more than Kurt just moving here."

"He's going to live at St. Anne's."

She sat straight up and looked down at him, her heart racing. She had been committed there once. Hell, half of her family and most of Todd's had been committed there at _least_ once.

"Why?"

Todd turned over on his side, faced the wall, and drew himself into the fetal position. "Kurt has DID."

She stared at the back of his head. There was nothing she could say. There was nothing he would want to hear. They'd had enough experience with Viki and Jessica to understand what DID was, as well as what usually precipitated it.

"Well, _fu_ _ck_ ," she finally whispered.

Todd giggled hysterically. "The powwow basically turned into one big family rape survivors meeting."

"Viki and Jessica," she murmured, "and Victor."

He sighed. "Natalie was attacked twice, once by Mitch and once by your cousin, Paul Cramer; neither were successful and, as much as I'd like to shove her face in a dirty toilet every day for the next year, I'm grateful for that. Johnny Dee tried to rape Tina, but Niki Smith shot him. We know what Zach tried to do to Starr. Jessica has Norman Leeds; Mitch tried to rape her, too, even though he believed, at the time, that she was his _daughter_. Mitch _did_ rape Viki ..."

She laid a hand on his shoulder.

"... and he raped me."

Her grip tightened. "What?" she asked, voice tiny.

"Mitch raped me, Blair, in front of his entire congregation when I was twelve. Didn't you know? I know there was a videotape. Mitch told me to smile and look at the camera as he forced himself in my mouth." He ignored her choked gasp. "Victor never told you? Irene gave him the memories."

"She did _what?_ "

"Peter had been raping me for years so, by that point, it was all old hat."

"Don't do that," she begged. "Don't make it out as less than what it is. Please don't do that to me and especially not to yourself."

How could she not have known this? How in the world had she at least not _suspected_ it? It made so much sense! It explained why he did what he did to Marty - it didn't excuse it of course; nothing could ever do that - but it provided an impetus. It explained why he had been terrified that Starr would be a girl; he didn't want to become Victor Lord.

It explained, at least in part, why he had given Jack away. It had little to do with Max and everything to do with Todd's fear that he would become Peter or that Jack would become just like Todd himself.

It explained why Todd rarely initiated sex, rarely even asked for it. When he did want it, it was usually in a bedroom in the dark where no one would see and where he couldn't see himself.

Bile splashed against the back of her throat as her eyes burned like they had been scrubbed with sandpaper. Unlike Viki and Jessica, Todd had lived with his memories of rape; he hadn't been able to block them out. It also made sense why he had been able to fake DID so convincingly; not just because of his experience with Viki and Jessica, but perhaps because some part of him wished he _had_ developed the disorder so that he could forget what he knew to be true.

Oh, _Jesus_.

"Viki grew up with our father raping her. I grew up being raped by the man I thought was my father but who was actually my cousin. Viki and I were both raped by Mitch Laurence. He tried to rape two of Viki's daughters and your cousin Cassie." His laugh was dark and bitter. "What a family."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"Because I didn't want to," he said frankly. "I don't want you to know now, but I know that if I didn't tell you, Starr would have. She made that clear."

He turned over to face her and she laid back down, their noses almost touching. "I never wanted to use it as an excuse for what I did to Marty, because there is no excuse. _I_ made that choice. _I_ chose to do that to her." He glowered. "So did Zach and Powell, no matter what they claimed later. I didn't force them to do anything. They, especially Powell, never wanted to take responsibility for their actions. That's something else that runs in our family."

Marty was never a subject Blair enjoyed discussing, but after what Victor had done to the woman, she couldn't help but feel for her. She was disgusted with herself for all of the times she had accused Marty of using her rape to garner attention.

What the hell had she been thinking? What was _wrong_ with her?

She closed her eyes and gently stroked the apple of Todd's cheek. She was glad the scar was still there. It was now less of a scarlet R than it was a memorial of his personal growth. He could never deny who he had been, but he was no longer that man. She knew that. Starr and Viki and Jessica knew that. Hell, even _Marty_ knew that.

Hopefully one day soon Todd would know that, would _feel_ that.

"Starr told me about what Spencer Truman tried to do to you."

She inhaled sharply. That was something she had tried to push down and far away from her consciousness, but it always resurfaced at the most inopportune or innocuous times.

"How is this our life?" Todd wondered. "Why does this keep happening to our family?"

"I don't know," she said in a low voice. "I'm a product of rape, Todd. I've never known who my father was; he was just some man who raped my mother while she was in a mental institution. We don't know who Kelly's father is either. Dorian has always suspected Melinda was raped while she was institutionalized, but Kelly doesn't know and Melinda never said before she died." She sighed heavily. "And there's my cousin Paul, the baby thief and potential rapist."

"I can't believe this happened to Kurt," he whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm so scared. What if happens to Starr or Jack or Hope or Bree or the other kids? I couldn't go through that, Blair. I couldn't stand it."

Blair ran the pad of her thumb over his full lips. God, she had missed that mouth. She refused to contemplate such an evil preying on her children. "Viki and Jessica got through it; Kurt can too."

He scoffed. "They got through it according to whom? Every time they're supposedly integrated, something fucking awful happens and they fracture again."

Again she said nothing. She couldn't argue that very real truth.

"Hell, even Megan turned into Ruby Bright when things got too tough."

"That was a completely different situation," she argued. "Megan fully recovered and you know her split wasn't caused by what happened to Viki, Jessica, or you."

"Yeah," he said bitterly, "she just died of lupus. It was her sister who was raped."

She sighed again.

"Can we please talk about something else?" he muttered. "I don't want to talk about Kurt anymore. I don't want to think about it anymore. It will be hard enough when he gets here, when I look into those big Bambi eyes of his and know what happened to him. I'm exhausted by the idea that rape has probably infiltrated almost every generation of my family for as long as we can trace it back."

"Does he know what happened?"

Todd shook his head and fell silent.

"When do you think Jack will tell us?" she asked, acceding to his request to change the subject.

Todd rolled his eyes. "When he'll tell us that he's gay or when he'll tell us he's obviously in love with Shane Morasco?"

"Buchanan," Blair corrected. "Rex had their names changed."

He chewed on that for a moment. "I'm no fan of that name or that family outside of Jessica, but ... Shane's been through a lot. He deserves that name."

She nodded. "When I found out what Jack had been doing to that poor kid ..."

"And how he had absolutely no remorse?" Todd finished. "Yeah, shades of me, I know. It scared me too."

She looked into his eyes. "Do you really think Jack felt no remorse?"

"I don't know," he muttered, scrubbing his face with a hand. "I think it quickly spun out past Jack's control. I think he allowed himself to succumb to peer pressure. I think he didn't immediately understand his feelings for Shane; or, if he did, he was scared of them, of what they might mean and what people would say. Still, it was a hell of a lot more than pulling pigtails or punching Shane's arm and running away. Shane contemplated _suicide_."

Blair shuddered. "And what Jack did to Gigi, intentional or not ..."

Todd smirked. "I like Gigi. I can see why Viki likes her. She doesn't take shit from anyone. She'll give you more shit than you can handle and will cram it down your throat with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. She reminds me a lot of you, actually."

She raised an eyebrow. "Should I be jealous?"

"Please. If anything, I'd like to swap out Tina for Gigi so that I'd have two awesome sisters. Let Tina be married to Rex. Monkeys belong together."

She snickered wildly and buried her face in his shoulder. She had about as much use for Tina and Rex as an ox would to be yoked to a kangaroo. She sobered quickly. "What do you think about the fact that our son might be gay?"

He raised a brow. "Blair, I was raped by two pedophiles, not two gay dudes. I'm not confused about that. I have no problem with Jack being gay, if indeed he really is."

She gave him a dubious look.

"My roommate at LU, Mason Jennings. Did I ever tell you about him?"

She shook her head.

"This was before I joined the fraternity. Mason was gay and I didn't care. It didn't bother me to share a room with him. He was like anyone else; he just liked guys. So what? I like dogs instead of cats. I'd rather live with Mason than a cat. Promise me we'll never get a cat."

She bit her lip to stop her grin. She had missed this so much. Victor had never made her laugh like Todd did and she again rued that she had bought so easily into the lie. Victor had Todd's sarcasm, but never his quick wit. She knew Starr, Viki, and Jessica had their own regrets about not rooting out that Todd was being impersonated.

"Mason was a great guy," he continued. "He was good to me, even when a lot of other people weren't. He warned me about the frat." His brow furrowed. "About my anger and letting it control me."

He sighed. "When they came to arrest me, I was living at the frat and Mason was coming over to tutor me. He just ... he looked at me and he knew. He knew I had done it and, as much as I know he liked me, that he was a true friend, I knew he wouldn't defend me.

"That's _why_ he was a friend. He wouldn't defend the indefensible. He wouldn't compromise his integrity no matter how much he liked me. He was one of the few who was never cowed by my being on the team or in the frat or that I had money. He stood up to me. I liked that. I admired that."

"He sounds like a nice boy," she murmured.

Todd nodded. "Last I heard, he had gone to Vanderbilt for medical school."

"Did you ever think about looking him up?"

He blushed. "I don't think he'd want to hear from me."

"Maybe you'd be surprised."

He ignored her. "If Jack is gay, then he's gay. I hope he dates really hot boys with big dicks. I want my gay son to have all the cock he wants. But they will be made to know how lucky they are and should be terrified of me and/or you. Or even of Dorian. It doesn't matter, as long as they're terrified."

She stared at him with her mouth hanging open before finally shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

"I'm hungry," he complained.

She rolled them again.

* * *

Téa and Victor were having a similar conversation at their home. Dani was sleeping over at Destiny's house.

Téa was having a strange reaction to the revelation of Todd's rapes. It wasn't that she couldn't believe they had happened; it was frighteningly probable. It wasn't that she was unsurprised he had never told her; he had rarely told her anything personal during their marriages. It wasn't even that he had so casually announced it this afternoon in that family meeting; Viki and Jessica had been there and Todd always felt safe with them.

It was that he hadn't told Blair.

He told Blair _everything_.

She stamped down that lingering tinge of jealousy whenever she thought of Blair where Todd was concerned. It was stupid and immature, she knew. She and Blair were not in competition for Todd; he had always belonged to Blair and everyone knew it.

She and Blair had come a long way in their relationship and she now regarded the woman, rightfully, as the best friend she'd ever had. She wasn't about to let some man - not even Todd - come between them.

"He said that in front of everyone?" she quietly asked. "Even Estrella?"

Victor slowly exhaled. "Yeah, that surprised me too, although I don't know why. You know how close ... they ... have always been."

Téa regarded him solemnly. She knew he had many regrets about his relationship with Starr. They had both overheard Starr confessing to Jessica how guilty she felt for not recognizing sooner that Victor was not Todd. Todd never would have done the things to her that Victor had, especially not throwing her down the stairs while she was pregnant or plotting to steal her baby.

They both knew she was right, that such behavior had been totally out of character for Todd. When Todd had learned about it, he had practically become homicidal; of course, that didn't take much. But Starr was his firstborn and he absolutely revered her. They had always been closer than parent and child; they had been best friends from the day she had been put into his arms.

Viki and Jessica's dynamic was similar and had given Natalie fits for years.

And then there was the fact that Starr wanted little to do with Victor now. She had forgiven him his sins against her because she had felt that, as his daughter, she owed him that. Now that parentage was off the table, she had traded in Viki's halo for Todd's crown of thorns. Truthfully, they were all a little glad that Starr had started showing some of the spunk she'd had as a child, before life and hard choices had turned her into a somber teenager far older than her years.

Téa knew Victor was hurt over Starr's defection, but she couldn't blame the girl. Victor had done some truly heinous things in the name of love to most of Todd's family, Blair definitely included.

Hell, sometimes she wondered if the reason she stayed with him was because he was the closest she would ever get to Todd. The thought shamed her, but she couldn't deny it.

Victor looked pensive. "I think today was the first time I really got how much I hurt Jessica."

Téa looked at him with surprise.

"I watched her today with Bree and Ryder." His eyes darkened. "Chloe should have been there. I'm part of the reason she isn't."

"Victor ..."

"Don't," he said shortly. "We both know it's true. If there's one thing that Todd and I actually _do_ share, it's our love for Jessica. Outside of you, Blair, the kids, and Viki, Jess is the one we love the most."

He looked down at the floor. "Todd never would have allowed Tess to run amok. She wouldn't have been able to blackmail him about Marty because we both know that never would have happened with Todd. Even if she had found something else to use, he would've just tied her up and hauled her off to St. Anne's.

"I didn't. I let Tess stay in control. Tess gave Viki literal _heart attacks_. She almost killed her in a trap designed for Natalie. I knew what Tess was doing to Natalie and I didn't care. I cared in the abstract because I knew that if something bad happened to Natalie, it would hurt Viki, but I've never had any use for Natalie. I had no use for Jared either. As far as I'm concerned, he killed Nash; a part of Jessica died with Nash, and I'm not sorry Jared's dead because he was a complete asshole."

"Tina was a part of that too," Téa gently pointed out. "Your sister knew exactly what Tess was doing and went along with it because she was being blackmailed just like you were."

"And Viki cut Tina out of her life for that," Victor said, "and that was the worst punishment in the world. Tina, Todd, me - we need Viki. We need her in ways we can't even articulate to ourselves, let alone her or anyone else. I don't really know Tina, but I know she was devastated, truly devastated, when Viki told her to leave town and never come back.

"She never said that to me. It was how she looked at me. That's what I began to understand that Viki had higher expectations for me - well, for Todd - than she did Tina. There was something beautiful and awful about that, that someone would have expectations for me to do the right thing."

His hands curled into fists. "The one thing I hate most about Tess was how she went on and on about how Bree was _her_ daughter, that _she_ had conceived Bree with Nash. That was bullshit. When Tess was out, she didn't gave two shits about Bree. She bleated about her new baby but couldn't be bothered to keep a single doctor's appointment. One blood test - _one_ \- and Chloe could have been saved."

He laughed bitterly. "Natalie is always bitching about how Tess and Bess are parts of Jessica and that Jessica never takes responsibility for the actions of her alters. That's bullshit, too. Jessica is the one who _always_ takes responsibility, even for things that are absolutely not her fault. Her alters hurt her more than they've ever hurt anyone else."

"Is that why you didn't press charges against Jessica over Hope?" Téa whispered.

Victor shook his head. "That was entirely Starr's decision, but one which Blair and I both supported. Jessica has lost two of her children; Blair has lost three. Starr understood what it was to be a mother without a child. Jessica needed help; we knew it and she knew it."

"I've noticed Jessica is the only you really bother talking to anymore," Téa carefully noted. "Even more so than Viki."

He soured. "Viki feels guilty and I understand why she does. I don't like it, but I understand. If someone had replaced her with an imposter and I hadn't been able to tell the difference _for eight years_ , I know I'd never get over the guilt. I know she still loves me; that's never going to change. I'm still her brother, I'm just not Todd."

"And Jessica?"

"Jessica loves far too much and with too little restraint, but that's why everyone loves her."

He was silent for a very long time.

"I hate that Kurt is going through this. I hate that this is the family into which he was born because our only legacies are pain and sexual violence."

"You aren't a rapist, Victor."

"Sure I am. I raped Marty." He held up a hand to stave off her protest. "We both know it's true even if you don't want to call it that. No, I might not have forced her, but I lied to her and I manipulated her and I isolated her. If I had been honest from the beginning about the fact that she had a son, that Cole needed her, that John was looking for her, she never would have been with me.

"She was physically hurt. She was emotionally unstable. She was mentally incapacitated; she might have had all her faculties, but she also had amnesia. I didn't have her true, informed consent. I did rape her."

Téa looked away. She didn't know what to say. Part of her agreed with him; another part didn't. She remembered when she returned to Llanview to defend him ... the looks of disgust that people had leveled at her ... the revolt on Blair and Starr's faces ... even now it was difficult to stomach.

Victor flushed with rage. "If I ever find the bastard that did this to Kurt, that caused him to fracture, I'm going to rip them apart with my bare hands."

"Todd would probably help you."

"Nothing brings a family closer together than premeditated murder."

* * *

Dr. Marty Saybrooke pressed weary fingers to her closed eyes, trying to dull the throbbing behind them. She didn't notice her husband and son enter the room.

"Jessie," she said quietly, "please don't be upset. I'm glad you called me. My past with Todd aside, you're my best friend. There's nothing you can't tell me, okay?" She paused. "Does Blair ..."

Marty listened intently and nodded, murmuring words lost to Patrick and Cole, who were staring at each other with worry and upset. Any mention of Todd Manning was never a good one.

"Okay," she said. "Just know you can _always_ call me, all right? I know how much he means to you and I know how good he's been to you. Before Blair, before the kids, you were the one who sent him on his road to being a better man, and he is that now." She nodded. "I love you, too. Get some rest, honey."

She disconnected and released a slow, raspy breath, clearing her throat and staring out the picture window of their living room.

"Margaret?" Patrick whispered, wincing when Marty jumped.

"Is everything okay with Jessica?" Cole cautiously asked.

He was still mixed on his feelings about her. On the one hand, she had stolen his daughter and allowed him and Starr to believe Hope was dead; on the other, Jessica had been a mentally ill woman who had lived through the death of her husband and child. He didn't know if he should have gone along with Starr and not pressed charges, but he felt he had done the right thing. Jessica had needed help, not jail.

Marty sighed. "No."

"This about Manning?" Patrick asked, steel now tingeing his voice.

"Indirectly."

"Are Starr and Hope okay?" Cole asked anxiously.

"They're fine, sweetheart," she said soothingly. "Today, the entire family gathered at Llanfair and discussed some ... things."

"Such as?" Patrick asked.

Marty ignored him. "Starr and Todd were there, as well. You might want to call her later, Cole. According to Jessica, Starr is ... very upset about what she learned today."

"Which was what?" Patrick demanded.

"Calm down," she said sternly. "It has nothing to do with me or us." She gathered a breath. "Starr's cousin is moving to Llanview; specifically, St. Anne's." She looked away. "He has DID."

Patrick was horribly confused. "I thought the only male cousins Starr has are the twins' little boys, Liam and Ryder."

Cole sat down heavily and shook his head. "No, she has another cousin. He's the great-grandson of Todd's father's sister. His name is Kurt. He's three years younger than Starr and two years older than Jack." He stared at his mother. "If he has DID, then that means ... "

She nodded. "Most likely, yes."

"That family is cursed," Patrick muttered. "It's not right. It's not fair."

"No, it's not," Marty said, "and apparently it extends farther than any of them thought."

"How do you mean?" Cole asked with urgency.

"You know that Mitch Laurence raped Viki and tried to rape her daughters."

They nodded.

"He also tried to rape Dorian's daughter, Cassie, years ago." She ran her tongue over parched lips. "And he raped Todd."

"What?" asked a horrified Cole.

"Todd was twelve," Marty continued, voice hazy. "Mitch raped him in front of his entire congregation. Apparently there is also a videotape that has been exchanging hands for over twenty years."

"How did Laurence even get his hands on Manning?" Patrick asked.

Marty raised her eyes and stared into her husband's own. "Because Peter Manning, Todd's adoptive father and maternal cousin, handed Todd over to Mitch." She laughed bitterly. "Peter had been raping Todd for years."

Patrick blanched and had to sit down. "Jesus Christ."

"Starr must be devastated," Cole whispered. "She loves him so much."

"So does Jessica," Marty agreed. "They were with him for most of the day. Starr made him promise to tell Blair." She closed her eyes. "Blair and I will never be friends, but she's already been put through far too much." She shook her head. "She doesn't deserve to bear this, too."

Patrick gnashed his teeth. In truth, he was very concerned about Blair. He had loved her once and probably always would in some fashion. They had lost a child together. Still, even the thought of Todd Manning drove him crazy. "Please don't tell me this changes your view on what Manning did to you."

"It doesn't," Marty snapped, "but neither can I ignore it. I remember Peter Manning, Patrick. I remember how Todd acted around him, like a beaten dog terrified of its master." She bit her lip. "Back then, I suspected he had physically abused Todd, but _never_ did I think ... " She shook her head. "It doesn't excuse what Todd did to me and he would be the first person to agree with that, but it's motivation. Those types of behaviors repeat themselves. We all know that."

She laughed sardonically. "I can't help but feel sorry for him. To be raped for years by the man you thought was your father, only then to be handed over by that same man to yet another rapist?"

Cole shuddered.

"Viki and Todd grew up being raped by their fathers. The fact that Peter was Todd's cousin is incidental; Todd believed Peter was his father and I have to wonder if Peter was aware of what Victor Senior had been doing to his daughter. A mobster once tried to rape Tina. Victor Jr. was raped by Margaret Cochran.

"Mitch Laurence, the same man who later raped Viki, also raped her brother. That man tried to rape both of Viki's daughters and Cassie."

She shook her head. "Cassie was there for me after my rape. I could _not_ have survived it without her, yet she never told me about what Mitch tried to do to her. I don't even know if Andrew ever knew." Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't help but wonder if that wasn't part of what drove her breakdown.

"Viki developed DID. Jessica was raped as a child and later developed the same condition. Now their cousin is going through the same thing." She scowled. "And Irene Manning, who must be gunning for Bitch of the Century, knew what was happening to Todd, her own fucking son, did nothing to stop it, and then transposed his memories of his rapes into Victor's mind so that he could do a better impersonation."

Cole clapped a hand over his mouth as he ran to the bathroom.

Patrick sat down next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know if I should do anything. I can't help Todd. I can't help Kurt. My training has been focused on counseling offenders, not victims, and I have no clinical experience with DID." Her eyes filled once more. "Jessica told me how much Todd loves Kurt. Viki, Joey, Kevin, Jess - they all love him but don't know how to help him."

She laid her head on his shoulder. "You were right. They _are_ cursed, and it shows no signs of stopping."


End file.
